


You've Got Owls

by Drarrymadhatter, Janieohio



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry Potter, Fluff, Gay Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Says Fuck A Lot, Humor, Letters, M/M, Meet-Cute, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Oblivious Harry, POV Alternating, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, Pen Pals, Post-Hogwarts, Romantic Comedy, Seriously - It's a huge amount of fluff!, Shop Owner Draco Malfoy, Shop Owner Harry Potter, Swearing, You've Got Mail 1998 Movie, controversial pizza toppings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarrymadhatter/pseuds/Drarrymadhatter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janieohio/pseuds/Janieohio
Summary: Harry and Draco's lives are very different, but with one main thing in common — they both have a penpal recommended by their mind healers. Someone they can talk to anonymously. They’ve both grown close to their penpals and write to each other every day. As they grow more and more fond of each other, they have no idea that their pen pals are each other.You know how this trope goes. Prepare for lots of fluff, hijinks, and confusion as they find their ways past their prejudices and make their way to one another. This is a Drarry cover of the movie You've Got Mail.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Rolf Scamander, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter
Comments: 99
Kudos: 203





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Drarrelie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarrelie/gifts).



> Hello, readers! We are two Drarry fanfic writers who have teamed up to create this little story as a gift for a dear friend of ours. We had so much fun, we may write more stories together in the future! If you want to read more of our individual works, you can find links to each of our fanfic profiles by clicking on our usernames at the top of this page. 
> 
> Also, if you haven't noticed from the title and our tags and summary, this story is a Drarry cover of the movies You've Got Mail and The Shop Around the Corner. We hope you enjoy!

For Drarrelie, who loves _You've Got Mail_ and Drarry, and who we love very much. Thanks for being an amazing friend and encouraging us both so fully. Neither of us would be doing this crazy writing thing without your support.

By JanieOhio and DrarryMadhatter

**Chapter 1**

"Harry? Harry, honey?"

Harry groaned and forced himself awake, then reached over and found the bed next to him to be cold, his partner having vacated some time earlier. "Luna? What time is it?"

"It's half-past six, sleepyhead. You're going to miss the Nargles mating again."

"Oh… I'm so sorry." He rubbed his hand over his eyes as he pushed up on his elbows and reached for his glasses. "I can't go today. I— er— forgot that Ginny called off from the shop and I have to open."

Luna laughed, making him want to groan at the loud noise so early in the morning. "That's all right, Silly. You'd probably scare them away, anyway." She sat down on the side of his bed in a bright yellow blouse and trousers which fell just below her knees. Her large floppy straw hat poked him in the eye as she leaned over to kiss his cheek before she jumped up and started rearranging items in his bedroom, moving them from surface to surface.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you need to be in balance, Harry? You have no _balance_ , and you're never going to be truly happy until you find it. Look at this room. It's all dark. Dark walls and dark wood will make a person's mood dark." She spun, arms out wide with her wand at the tip of her fingers and giggled. " _Colovaria._ "

Harry sighed as his bedroom walls changed from their deep blue to a bright spring green.

Luna beamed at him. "There. Much better. Now, have a good day at the store, darling. And remember! _Balance_!"

Harry watched her leave his room and listened for the sound of the Floo rushing to life, then going silent. He waited several moments to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything and come back, then he grinned. He jumped out of bed and checked himself in the mirror for just a moment. His hair was even more wild than usual, his beard needed trimming, and he hadn't yet put his contacts in, so his glasses sat crooked across his nose where he'd hurriedly shoved them on. He threw on a t-shirt and ran out to his office.

Sitting in the corner of his bookshelf was an innocent-looking box, not much larger than an old Muggle cigar box. It was made of cherry wood and had a small knob on top used to lift the lid. No other distinguishing marks were visible, and due to Harry's notice-me-not charms, it was never remarked upon by Luna. It was _his_ box, and it was special to him.

Well, not really the box. The box itself was just something he'd picked up at a local antique shop down near his own storefront in Wiz-Soho. What made it special, however, was that he'd had it charmed to automatically receive mail from his anonymous post box. That box had only one correspondent, and he wrote regularly.

As did Harry.

They'd been writing regularly for months. It was all very innocent, which is why he hadn't mentioned it to Luna. He'd read that having a pen pal could be cathartic—someone you could write to, tell your troubles to, who would never know you or meet you, and therefore you wouldn't mind opening yourself up to without fear of recrimination. His Mind-healer had actually encouraged the idea and had organised an exchange of addresses through a service she knew of for such things.

Harry reached for the box in anticipation, eager to see if he had a new letter. He did most mornings. They'd fallen into a routine of Harry writing early in the day, and FoodandWine69 writing at night. Harry almost always had a new letter to read over his morning tea.

Lifting the lid, he saw that he was not to be disappointed this time. Today's letter had a large cat's paw stamped on the outside, and he took it with a smile. Treasuring the happiness that simple letter brought him each day, he patiently made his tea with care, then sat down with a muffin and read.

_Dear WolfStar,_

_This evening, I thought I would introduce you to my good friend, Ragu. He's a rare breed of Bengal Kneazle and is better than a guard dog any day of the week. No one sets a ward or tackles intruders better than Ragu! When he's taking a break from being my head of security, he loves to play hide and seek. His natural talent for high jumps and contortionism is second to none, making it almost impossible to find the blighter. In the evening, we both settle in front of the fire and read your latest letter, Ragu with his goblet of Evian and I with a nice wine._

_I must say I love good wine. If I knew who you were and actually had your address, I would send you a bottle of Tuscany Tignanello with my compliments. However, I do like the anonymity this type of correspondence affords. I feel I can tell you anything at all, and that warms me better than two fingers of Borteg's. So many things in life are trying, and I'm forever grateful that I have you to soothe me with your notes. I only hope that you are similarly soothed by mine._

_Yours,_

_FoodandWine69_

Harry finished the letter, a huge grin on his face, and penned his reply.

_Dear Friend,_

_Wine, you say? I have to admit that a Tignanello would be completely wasted on me. What is that, anyway? I can tell you the difference between a Chardoney and Merlot, but only because they're different colours. They both taste horrible to me. I'd much prefer a pint any day._

_Am I soothed by your letters? I don't know if soothed is the correct word. Instead, I guess I'd say I'm full of eager anticipation. I should probably be embarrassed to admit that, but I feel like I can tell you most anything and you won't use it against me. That's not always been the case with people in my life, so it's a trait I really appreciate._

_So, yes, each morning, I approach my letterbox in eager anticipation, excited to see what you have to say. We talk about nothing, we give no specifics about our lives, and yet, I feel closer to you than some of the people I meet every day. Your words never fail to make me look at the world around me just a little bit differently. What little nuggets of wisdom will FoodandWine69 pass on to me today? So I read your letter, cannot seem to wait until my breakfast is cold to respond, then hurry my owl out the window and on her way. And throughout the day, your words come back to me and bring a smile, and I wonder what tomorrow's letter might bring. Thank you for giving me something to look forward to every day._

_WolfStar_

Harry folded the letter and called the barn owl he shared with his neighbour to his kitchen window. "You know where to take it, Meg. And be nice to Mr Biggles. He's a fine postman and does not deserve your ire."

Meg hooted — Harry was sure she rolled her eyes at his admonishment — then she swooped out the window. In high spirits and with a spring in his step, he was prepared to have a good day.

* * *

Harry exited his West London flat and looked around at the beautiful early summer morning. He could have Apparated to his job, but he liked to watch people as he passed. He wasn't one to strike up conversations with everyone, but many of the local shop owners and street vendors were used to seeing him and offered friendly waves or a smile. This neighbourhood made him feel like a part of the scenery. He wasn't special or singled out, but he belonged here, and this place belonged to him.

Shortly after the war, a contingent of the younger Muggle-borns and half-bloods who had had enough of the prejudices and unchanging ways of the older, traditional magical populace, had settled together outside Soho in London's west end. They knew how to blend in with the Muggles, and appreciated the access to Muggle amenities. Grouped together as they were, they began to attract friends and relatives, slowly expanding their influence in the area. Gradually, a few magical shops began appearing, and now, ten years after the war, there was a mini-Wizarding district affectionately referred to as Wiz-Soho by the magical community.

It was here that Harry, in partnership with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, opened his own shop four years before. Opting against joining the Aurors after the war—he'd had enough violence to last him a lifetime—Harry had taken a greater interest in Fred and George's defence goods developed during the war. With Fred gone, George had chosen to concentrate solely on his joke and toy lines and was thrilled when Harry expressed his desire in taking over that part of the business.

Harry wasn't interested in making shield hats and decoy detonators, however. Oh, he still stocked those in small quantities, but his real attention lay in bespoke defence products and services. His shop offered custom defence spells, home protection services, and personalised defence charms on any item the customer might bring in. Among his most popular requests were mind-protection spells, shield charms, theft-deterrent alarms, and even child locator charms which let parents find children who had a tendency to wander away.

His favourite offerings, however, were his defence classes. He provided one class per day in the evening, each day for a different age group. He taught young children how to kick, bite, run, and harness their accidental magic, and he taught the elderly how to be confident in their muscle memory of the spells they'd not practised in half a century. Every day he went to work he made a difference. He loved it.

He approached the front doors of his shop, the deep red facade bringing a smile to his face. The sign ran across the top of the door and window: Haven. _Haven,_ he sighed to himself. _Rest, security, refuge._ He smiled. It was definitely that. He unlocked the door and began opening the shop for the day.

* * *

"Harry, are you _humming_?"

"Huh?" He looked up from where he was wiping down the walnut shelves lining the walls of his shop where he kept his displays of charmed home items—a defensive teapot which spewed hot water at intruders was surprisingly one of his more requested items. _Go figure._

Hermione was on a reduced workload at the Ministry due to some complications early in her pregnancy, so she kept him company at the shop once a week and worked on his books to keep from _going crazy at home,_ as she put it. Her barely visible baby bump made him smile when he looked over, and he noticed she had her head cocked in obvious curiosity.

"You're humming," she pointed out. "Since when do you hum?"

Harry shrugged. "Since forever. It's not my fault if you haven't heard me before. Besides, it's a beautiful day. Why wouldn't I hum?"

Andromeda came around the corner from where she'd been cleaning the practice room in the back. "Who's humming?"

"No one!" and "Harry!" came the simultaneous answers.

Andromeda shrugged. "It's a beautiful day. It's a day made for humming."

"Thank you!" Harry said as he narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "You'd think a bloke needs a special license to hum around here."

"Fine, you can hum. What's got you in such a good mood, anyway?"

"Good mood? Am I?"

Hermione stared at him while Andromeda raised a single eyebrow.

"Well, maybe I am." He grinned, then cocked his head. "What's a Tuscany Tignanello?"

This time both of Andromeda's eyebrows rose. "Are you suddenly interested in wine, Harry? That's quite a lovely red, actually. One I'm fond of."

Harry nodded in thought. "Maybe I just haven't tried enough wines. I could be a wine drinker, couldn't I?"

Hermione watched him closely. "What's this about, Harry?"

He looked at the two women before him; two women he trusted more than anyone. He grinned. "Can you keep a secret?"

Hermione sat up. "From whom? I don't like keeping secrets, Harry."

"Just don't bring it up, okay? I don't want it spread around." He sat down at the walnut conversation island lined with benches where he usually did customer consultations.

Andromeda sat next to him and smiled. "Of course. Now, do tell," she urged, a conspiratorial smile on her lips.

Harry remembered the day's letter and felt the pleasure run through him. "I have a pen pal."

Hermione cocked her head, but Andromeda just laughed and shushed Hermione before she could speak. "Go on…"

"Well, my therapist thought it'd be a good idea if I could have someone anonymous to talk with, someone who wouldn't know me, I wouldn't know them, and we could just put our feelings and thoughts on paper." He stopped and gave a happy sigh. "It's quite wonderful, honestly. I've been happier than I have been in years. It feels so good to be able to talk so openly with this person."

Hermione looked sceptical. "And you have no idea who it is?"

"Nope. None. He's a man, I know that much at this point, and he lives here in London. Oh, and he has a Kneazle and likes wine. But we don't tell specifics. I don't know what he does for a living, or who he is, or even how old he is. I get the feeling he's not very old, but…" Harry shrugged.

Andromeda smiled. "That sounds lovely, dear. Having someone to write to can be very cathartic."

"He could be a serial killer."

Harry laughed. "My Mind-healer put us together through a service with other Mind-healers. I'm sure he's been vetted. Besides, I know him pretty well at this point. He's not a serial killer."

"Who's a serial killer?" Ginny breezed in the front door and hung up her jacket behind the counter. "What did I miss?"

"Harry has a secret pen pal and has no idea who the person is, only that he's a he and that he likes wine and cats." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Harry, that's creepy."

Harry laughed as Ginny plopped down onto a bench next to Hermione. "So why is this a big deal?" she asked.

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione beat him to it. "Harry was _humming_."

He let out a little huff. "Look, this bloke is my _friend_. He's a friendly pen pal, and he makes me smile. It's nice to get a friendly letter every day."

"Every day?" Ginny asked incredulously. "No one writes letters every day, Harry. That's just weird."

"It's _not_." Harry was starting to get annoyed explaining himself to everyone. They just didn't understand. "Look. I write to him every day, too. It's kind of like writing in a journal, I guess. I tell him general things about my day or ask questions about life, or just ramble my ideas about something."

"A journal that writes back, Harry?" Ginny asked, a dark look crossing her face.

Hermione threw her arm around her, and Harry felt a little bad for bringing up old memories or Ginny's run-in with Tom Riddle's diary. "A _person_ that writes back, Gin. And like I said, his Healer knows my Healer. It's fine."

Andromeda sighed with a smile. "Well, I think it's good. And if this person is making you happy, then that's a good thing, right?"

Everyone nodded, and she continued. "I wonder what he looks like?"

"What does Luna think?" Hermione interrupted, her tone somewhere between curiosity and accusation.

"Uh, I haven't told her," Harry said, not meeting her eyes.

"And why not?" Hermione demanded.

"Because he's just a _friend_ ," he insisted. "And I don't even know him. Besides, Luna is busy with her studies and her newest cause to advance the teaching of Dragon Yoga; she doesn't need the extra distraction."

Ginny slammed her hand down on the table. "Damn, I knew I was forgetting something. Harry, did you hear that Draconis is opening a branch in London?"

Everyone at the table just groaned, but Harry shrugged it off. "So what? Why does that matter to me?"

Hermione gave him one of her " _don't be dense, Harry"_ looks. "Because people can buy cheaper defence items there in a greater variety."

"Right," Harry agreed. "But it's not custom work, and customers can only purchase what's offered. They don't teach classes, or give consultations, or make variations to meet the client's needs. We are in a completely different market," he assured them. "You'll see."

Hermione rolled her eyes as a customer came in the front door—a small, older witch with purple hair and narrowed eyes which relaxed with a smile as they landed on Harry.

"Harry, dear, there you are."

Harry stood up to greet her. "Mrs Mosby, it's lovely to see you again. How's your nephew?"

As the woman rattled on about her family and took out the necklace she wanted to be charmed for her granddaughter, Harry felt vindicated in his belief that he need not feel threatened by Draconis opening in the city. After all, they catered to two very different clienteles.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco sipped his coffee, pretending to listen to Rolf ramble on as he dashed around getting dressed for work. Rolf rarely needed more than hums and grunts and the occasional, "interesting". There were times he felt put out by how single-minded the man could be. But at others, like this morning, it was a blessing. How on earth could he care about whatever beastie or monstrosity had Rolf's boxers in a bunch _this_ time when he couldn't tear his thoughts away from the letter he revelled in the night before? _Merlin, these letters will be the death of me_ , he mused, lifting his coffee to his lips and sipping slowly before leaning contentedly against the countertop.

"I'm so late! Can you pour some coffee into a thermos for me? I've so many stops to make!" Rolf's worry-laced words broke through Draco's reverie and launched him into action.

"Yeah, sure," replied Draco, as he prepared the coffee thermos with a small amount of amusement. Rolf would never change. He was always rushing off to something or other and forgetting everything but his fillings in the process! As he set the thermos down, he had the urge to make a sandwich for the man, as well. Knowing Rolf, he likely hadn't eaten yet and would completely forget throughout the day. _The scatterbrain_ , thought Draco fondly.

"Have you seen my gloves? My dragonhide ones? I swear I put them — Oh, never mind! Found them!" Draco looked up to see Rolf practically prance towards him, waggling his work gloves victoriously. "Can't go handle a Billywig nest removal without them, not unless I want swollen fingers! Draco? Are you listening? Did you make the thermos?"

"Yes, of course. I made the thermos and a sandwich for later in case you don't get a chance to pick something up," he replied, gesturing to the items on the counter in front of him.

"Where would I be without you?" smiled Rolf at the thoughtful gesture.

"Is it just the Billywig nest you've got on today? You said you had a few stops?"

"Yeah, the Billywig's are first. They've nested in some poor Muggle's attic, so it's over to Australia for that. Then, I've got to hop back over here again and oversee a shipment of Occamy eggs at the Magizoo in Wiz-Soho."

"Are you going to be okay for dinner tonight after a jump like that? To Australia and back is no joke, Rolf," queried Draco with genuine concern.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll take the usual potions with me just in case. Oh, did I tell you that a Demiguise has been spotted in the Forest of Dean? I know, right? And as much as it's likely nonsense, I simply _must_ follow up the tip. Imagine if I could get a hair — just one! It would be enough to weave into a necklace or ring, and just think of the properties and potential that could have!"

"I thought you were late?"

"Merlin!"

"Don't forget your thermos and sandwich!"

"Thanks," Rolf said with a grateful huff as he grabbed the items, lingering just long enough to drop a peck onto Draco's cheek.

"See you tonight!" he rushed out, then vanished with a familiar crack.

Draco stayed leaning against the kitchen counter for a minute, his mug of coffee cocooned carefully in both hands and smiled secretly to himself at his plans for this evening. He had dinner with Rolf, of course, but afterwards, he would get to see if WolfStar had left him a note. The thought sent tingles of anticipation through his entire body. _What was it about those letters_? Draco shrugged bemusedly to himself. He didn't know what it was, but those letters were one of the best things in his life. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if that made him very lucky or extremely pathetic — a thought which made him let out a soft sigh. He knew he shouldn't linger for too long, as the new store was opening in one day and the last thing he needed was to be late for the hundred or so errands he had organised for today.

* * *

Draco stood on the pavement outside of his new shop and sipped at his takeaway coffee. It was impressive really, he mused, just how much progress the workmen had made in space of a few days. All the external work, with the exception of the shop sign still to be placed above the entrance, had been completed. All the dust sheets had been removed and there was no sign that work had recently been done. _Pray to Merlin that the inside of the shop will be a similar story_ , he thought wistfully, managing to repress a shiver at the memory of how close he had come to being clocked around the head by a poorly levitated piece of timber. Of course, he had chewed out the idiot responsible, but still, he found the building stage to be most trying, albeit necessary. Shrugging off his thoughts, he strode through the entrance, keeping in mind to watch out for any hazards.

Draco stood in the middle of the shop floor and smiled appreciatively. All of the internal building work was indeed complete and they were now ready to begin organising the stock. He walked over to the checkout area and ran his hand over the smooth, pale veneer. The workmanship was perfect. He could already envision what it would all look like — the rows and rows of shield products, the boxes of gadgets and trinkets to make attack and defence seem like child's play. Sure, they were one-size-fits-all, but so what? His products, although generic, were of good quality, and he provided a decent variety.

The first time the notion of opening a shop had rumbled across his mind had been about six months after he had first arrived in New York. The war was not long over and anyone who wasn't on the right side, namely the neutrals and anyone remotely related to anything or anyone in the Death Eater ranks, were treated like lepers. Anyone who was marked was dragged off to Azkaban, often without a proper trial. A fate he had thought awaited him thanks to the eyesore permanently scoring his inner left arm. He had only escaped said fate thanks to the testimony of _He Who Lived to Conquer_. Salazar, even now, after all this time, the fact that he owed Potter both his life and his freedom still rankled. However, he'd realised very quickly that he would never be able to live safely in Britain as it was then — everything was still too raw for those who had suffered, had feared, and had lost loved ones. He could understand that. He wasn't stupid — or a monster, contrary to popular opinion. Within a week, he had sorted out a decent plan, bade the haters goodbye, and skipped off into the New York sunset with a firm grip on both Pansy and Blaise.

Quite frankly, he'd never looked back — that is, until recently. The pen pal his therapist had put him in touch with was from England and that, more than any monetary incentive Blaise had posed, was the main reason he agreed to come back. Those silly letters were the moon and stars to him. The absolute thrill of checking his mail never ceased to amaze him. His nights were now centred around them as he shared the letters and a drink with Ragu. Only a fool would pass up the chance to be closer to someone like that — someone who made him _feel_ like that. However, he allowed Blaise to chalk the return as _his_ victory — why not?

As if summoned by Draco's memories, Blaise and Pansy bustled out from the storeroom and into the shop propper, both levitating several bulging boxes filled with who knew what and bickering away affectionately as per usual.

"I'm telling you I know what I'm talking about."

"Oh really? That'll be a first then."

"No need for the 'tude, Pans. Just 'cause you hate being wrong doesn't mean you get to attack the rest of us."

"Draco! Thank Circe you're here." Pansy demanded, setting her boxes down on the floor around her feet, "Please tell Blaise that there is no such thing as Dragon Yoga!"

"Yes, there is! There was a piece in the Prophet about it. It's a new fad. Meant to be some kind of variation on Dog Yoga or whatever."

"I swear to Mer— Draco! Tell him! I swear he just loves taking the piss."

"Sorry, guys, I actually have no idea. You should ask Rolf though; he'll know for sure."

"Fine, I will! I'm owling him right now!" And with that, Pansy turned on her heel and stormed off towards the office to make good on her threat. Draco tried and failed to hide his amusement. Honestly, those two had been at each other's throats for so long it was practically second nature. He doubted whether either was even aware of it by this point.

"Any news on when the staff are getting here?" enquired Draco as he squinted at his pocket watch. "It's already going on 9 am."

"Fear not, Mr Bossman; they're on their way. I told them it was a ten to ten pm shift today to get everything ship-shape, then it's business as usual tomorrow for the opening." Blaise looked down at his clipboard, checking off a few items. "It'd be good if you could bring Ragu by later to make sure the wards are set properly."

Draco nodded distractedly, barely even noticing that Blaise was still speaking about something or another. The mere mention of Ragu filled Draco with a sudden spark of excitement as he suddenly remembered every word from WolfStar's letter the night before.

_FoodandWine69,_

_Have you ever wondered if this is it? Like, have you reached the pinnacle of your life? Things are really good right now with my work, and my friends are all happy, and life seems to be just good. And of course, I have our friendship to keep things interesting. If this is it, and I'm not even thirty years old yet, where is the rest of my life going? And is it strange for me to worry about things being too good, haha? Maybe I need a pet._

_WolfStar x_

He was thinking about getting a pet, and what better pet could a wizard have than a Kneazle? Suddenly, Draco found himself remembering the letter he had sent to WolfStar the night before, where he had found himself listing all the amazing things about owning a Bengal Kneazle — ward setting, playful, loyal, discrete. Draco could feel his stomach knotting itself into a pretzel at the thought that WolfStar might actually take his advice.

"Draco? Earth to Draco? Draco!" The last word was slightly louder and sharper than the others, causing Draco to snap out of his torpor and finally pay attention to his friend.

"What?" demanded Draco, annoyed. "Is the yelling really necessary, Blaise?" As he turned towards his friend, he was taken aback by the look of pure amusement spread wide across his handsome face. "Why are you looking at me with that utterly ridiculous expression?" However, rather than answer him, Blaise merely began to chuckle softly and shake his head.

"Just what were you thinking about? If it was doing unspeakable things to Rolf, then I _definitely_ want to know!" enquired Blaise with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.

"I wasn't thinking about doing anything of the sort to anyone. Get your mind out of the gutter, you berk! I was merely trying to decide where to put the hat display."

"Uh-huh," Blaise hummed sceptically. "Because you always get a stupid, goofy, lovesick grin on your face when you ponder possible locations for shop displays."

"Blaise," began Draco suddenly. He could feel the goofy look hoisted back onto his face quite without permission as WolfStar's poignant words filled his mind. "Do you think that, sometimes, life can seem like it's too good? Like you're — how did he put it? — yeah, at _the pinnacle of your life_?"

"What in the name of Salazar's hairy ballsack are you talking about, man? 'Cause I gotta tell you, this is not the best time for you to be losing your gobstones or whatever."

"Nothing, nothing. This really is going to be great. I'm glad you talked me into coming back, you know."

"It was time, Draco. You can only run for so long. And, besides, there's a decent market here." Blaise replied as he bent to examine the contents of one of his boxes. "I checked out the competition yesterday. I must say there isn't much in the way of defence stores around here."

"What, you thought there would be a whole load of them all neat in a row?" scoffed Draco.

"Yes, yes, you're very witty. I just figured, you know, after _He Who Was A Noseless Douche_ and all, there would be more call for defence products and whatnot. As it is though, there's just this one store not far from here who make custom defence products. I wouldn't worry though; can't see them lasting too long once we open, you know?"

"You're all heart and sympathy for your fellow retailer, you know that? Yeah, if we manage this right, there shouldn't be any issues. Do me a favour? When the staff are here and briefed, chase up the guy who's rigging the sign for us, will you? I had rather expected it up by now, and I want to see it sorted before I leave today."

"Sure thing, Mr Big Bossman," Blaise smirked as he carried an armful of Dark Decoys towards a row of shelves.

"Blaise, so help me, if you keep calling me that, I'll fire you," Draco called after him with a light chuckle.

"Fine," he heard from a distance. "How about a simple Lord Vader?" He knew he should never have let Blaise watch that Star Wars marathon with him the previous weekend. Best to ignore it.

Draco walked over to one of the rows of shelves on the far wall and hummed in appreciation as he examined their sturdiness. They would house the range of garden and home defences, which were always heavy and awkward. _Yes, it's all coming together; the pinnacle_ , he thought as a shiver of excitement flitted through his stomach. So much was riding on this opening being a success, and he, for one, wasn't going to leave _anything_ to chance.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry woke the next morning feeling refreshed. Luna hadn't slept over, so he had the luxury of waking up slowly; he spread his arms out and heaved a huge stretching groan. Luna hated it when he did that, but it was his own bedroom, dammit, and she wasn't there. He grinned.

He didn't need to be at the shop until noon since he was teaching an evening class, so he decided to enjoy his leisurely morning at his own pace. He walked past his home office on the way to get his coffee and paused, eyeing his letterbox. _No,_ he told himself. _Coffee and shower first, then letter_. He grinned as the thrill of anticipation rushed through him and mentally patted himself on the head for his own self-control. Besides, he needed to spend his time in the shower organising his plans in his mind for the conference he was attending that weekend, not replaying the letter.

Harry took the shortest shower he'd remembered taking since his days with the Dursleys. Still, he did it, and he did take a second to plan that he needed two outfits for the two-day conference. _Perfect._

Dressing quickly for the day, he walked into his office with his hair still dripping from the ends; the letterbox sat innocently on the shelf. He approached it as he always did, with the sudden worry that today there might not be a letter awaiting him. It happened sometimes when FoodandWine69 was unable to write for some reason or other, but it was rare; still, Harry was ridiculously disappointed when it happened.

Harry opened the lid and let out a sigh of relief, then smiled. His letter was present, the parchment folded and sealed with purple sealing wax, no symbol embedded to add any extra clues as to the sender's identity. He reached in and withdrew the letter happily, enjoying as always the joy that this fascinating man took the time to write to him yet again.

What FoodandWine69 saw in him, he wasn't sure, but he was grateful.

He sat down in the reclining chair in the corner of his office and broke the letter's seal, then began to read.

_Dear WolfStar,_

_Chardoney? Really? It really is a mark of how much your letters mean to me that I managed to read past such sacrilege! It's_ _Chardonnay_ _, although I would agree with you that it tastes dreadful! I'm really not much of a white wine fanatic at all. If you ask me, it's merely glorified salad dressing. But red, well, that's a horse of a different colour. A decent red can easily lead one on a sensory journey; at least, I like to think so._

_So, you're a pint drinker? A pint of what, might I ask? Cider? Beer? Lager? All three in a strange but intriguing mix? I have to confess that I have never tried any of them before. I think the closest I've ever come to it is the odd butterbeer when I was at Hogwarts back in the day. You never know, on a particularly adventurous day I may well throw caution to the wind and give it a try._

_Needless to say, Ragu is viewing this entire letter with characteristic disdain. I retract my earlier statement that he is the best pet. I should have gotten a goldfish — I'm sure they would never dare judge their owner. Hindsight, I suppose._

_FoodandWine69 aka, Red Wine Connoisseur_

Harry chuckled to himself and reread parts of the letter. He wanted to blush at his mangling of the wine name, but he honestly didn't care at the moment. At least the man had a sense of humour about it. He began drafting his return letter in his head and prepared for the rest of his day.

* * *

About a block before he arrived at the shop, Harry noticed a new store opening up ahead. He'd witnessed construction occurring over the previous week, but it wasn't an odd thing in the neighbourhood. The speed with which it seemed to have gone up suggested that it was magical in ownership, and likely in merchandise. Harry grinned at the added prosperity of Wiz-Soho with each new business opening.

He crossed the road and stood on the pavement outside the storefront. From here, he could easily see the sign's elegant script: Draconis. _Well, this is an interesting development,_ he considered. Draconis was a well-known defence goods store internationally, but when Ginny had mentioned it, Harry had been sure it would open in Diagon Alley, or perhaps Hogsmeade. The fact that it opened here in Wiz-Soho, so close to the Muggle shopping district, was surprising. He wondered if the owner was drawn to the area as a Muggleborn, which would make sense.

Seeing a customer enter the store, Harry glanced at his watch. He had nearly thirty minutes before he needed to be at work. Eager to explore the store he'd seen advertised in the American defence magazines, he went in.

The store was large and open with high ceilings and shelves of merchandise lining each wall. Employees dressed in crisp matching robes falling over Muggle street clothes were spread conveniently through the store, ready to help customers find the goods they were seeking. Harry approached a wall of Shield-Charmed clothing of various types; cloaks of all sizes, shirts sized from children to adults, and headwear such as hats and children's hair bows were placed strategically at different heights to best catch the eye of the targeted customer.

"Sir, may I help you?"

Harry turned to see a pretty young woman with brown hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail and a Draconis uniform smiling at him. Her eyes flicked for a moment to his forehead, but he gave her credit for making no other visible sign of recognition. _So, the staff is well trained_ , he thought. _Interesting._

"No, thank you, Janice," Harry began, looking at the young woman's name badge. "I was just looking around. It's an interesting shop. Is there a catalogue I might have of all the offerings? I'd like to share it with my friend."

Janice smiled. "Of course, Mr Potter. Right this way. I could give you a tour if you'd like."

Harry chuckled. She might be well-trained and professional, but she was still trying to make a good impression on a famous person, clearly. "That's quite all right. Maybe another day. I'm on my way to work and just stopped in for a few minutes. Thank you, though."

She nodded as they passed cases of charmed trinkets and jewellery, and he studied the list of different spells applied to the various items. They covered many of the same popular charms he offered at Haven, but most items were only bestowed with one or two spells. If someone wanted a ring with multiple charms, they'd have to cover their hands with multiple rings. Hardly practical, though he had to admit that it was a good deal cheaper that way, as you didn't need precious metals if you weren't heavily layering the magic.

Janice returned to where he stood studying the list and handed him the catalogue. "I stuck my business card to the front in case you have any questions." She brushed her hand against his as she passed it over, then smiled and met his eyes. "Please feel free to call me anytime, Mr Potter. I'd be most _eager_ to help."

Ten years previous, Harry would have blushed at such an obvious show of intention — _okay, if I noticed,_ he allowed — but now he was so used to it that he almost wanted to roll his eyes. Instead, he politely thanked her and turned for the door, assured of his original assessment. This place held no real competition for him. It was for a completely different market of customers.

* * *

"Harry," Ginny shook her head at him, then went back to perusing the catalogue. "You're being short-sighted. People like to save money. There's no way we can match these prices and still make a profit, and people are going to go there instead of here. Yes, we can offer better quality and personalised options, but they don't need that at these prices. People don't care about heirlooms anymore. They want what they can buy for now and they'll replace and upgrade later. That's easier to do at these prices."

Harry continued to work on charming the necklace on the worktable in front of him, weaving the layer of spells together to create a defensive necklace to guard against ingestible and airborne poisons. The necklace itself had belonged to the owner's grandmother, but she wanted to gift it to her cousin who was marrying into a questionable family. Harry shook his head over the idea of nonsense like that still occurring in the pure-blood families, but, as the cousin was a half-blood, evidently there was cause for concern.

He tied off the spells and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was only the second commissioned piece he'd completed that day, but it had taken the last of his energy to get it right. He knew he needed to rest before his evening class if he wasn't going to let his Grindylow group wipe the floor with him. Those eight to eleven-year-old kids could be _vicious._

"Look, Ginny. I'm sure you're right, and a few of our customers will prefer to shop there for everyday items. However, when it comes time for gifts, or for more quality products, they'll come here. They know us; they trust us. I'm not worried."

Ginny still looked sceptical but shrugged. "Okay, Harry. But maybe you should take out some advertisement — or put your name on the store. _Haven, by Harry Potter._ It'd make a difference. Half the people in Diagon Alley don't know we're here, and the half that does, they don't know you own it. _Use your name,_ Harry."

"' _Use your name, Harry'_ ," he mocked in the voice he knew drove her nuts. "No. People will come to me for a good product, not because of a stupid scar."

"People will come because you're amazing at defensive magic, not because of a ' _stupid scar_ '." She said the last two words in the same type of mocking voice he'd used, and he shot her a glare.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll be making some new contacts at the conference this weekend. Everyone who's anyone in the defence world will be there, I'm told. At least, those here in Britain. I'll take some business cards and hand them out, and make sure people know I'm here, okay?"

She nodded, apparently satisfied, then an evil grin crossed her face. "Speaking of business cards, who is Janice and why did she sign her name with a heart dotting the i?

Harry laughed it off. "Someone Luna could probably shoot down with a look, all while practising her new Horntail stance."

Ginny laughed. "I still can't believe she can manoeuvre like that. Lucky you, huh?"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, sure. Lucky me."

* * *

The Grindylow class that night was one of Harry's favourites. He walked through the room, correcting the stance of the older children as they duelled. These children didn't have their own wands yet, but they could learn to control their accidental magic and direct it into sparks, repelling attackers. They could also use that slight magic to hide amongst their terrain, throw projectiles, and strengthen a punch.

Harry stopped at the side of an older boy with blue hair who was duelling with a white-haired girl about a year younger. "Teddy, you have to actually _mean it_ for it to work."

"But Harry, it's Victoire," his godson whined, and the girl in front of him stomped her foot in disgust.

"Teddy Lupin, if you don't treat me like all the other kids, I'm going to hex you!" Harry wanted to laugh, as she looked just like her mother Fleur when she was angry. He could almost see the fiery magic of her Veela ancestry spark in her eyes.

"Do you want me to pair her with someone else who _will_ challenge her?"

Harry knew the two were best friends, and that was definitely not what Teddy wanted, but he had to get the boy past being so protective of the girl.

"No," Teddy said with a huff. "Fine. Okay, Victoire. I'll try harder."

Teddy picked up the faux rock and prepared to throw it at Victoire so she could dodge it. Harry watched him channel a bit of magic into his pitch, just as Harry had taught him, increasing the speed and accuracy of the throw. Victoire dodged, as instructed, and Harry grinned.

"Better; much better. Keep going, now. Take turns."

He turned and walked through the room, enjoying every minute of the class. _Merlin_ , he loved his job.

He wondered what FoodandWine69 would think of his classes if he could see them? He really wished sometimes that they did share specifics about their lives. He was tired of editing everything out and keeping the relationship neutral. He loved their letters, and the time he spent "with" him each day. If only he could share the important details.

Well, at least he could talk with Luna over dinner tonight. She probably wouldn't pay much attention, but what she did listen to, she'd understand. Right. Luna; his friend of over a decade and his lover for almost a year.

Things seemed a little quiet there lately — not that they'd ever really been loud. He'd see if she'd go to the conference with him for the weekend. She could enjoy the beach or the spa while he was in seminars, and maybe they'd have a romantic evening and kindle some extra interest in one another.

Pleased with his idea, he moved his attention back to the students to finish up the class.


	4. Chapter 4

"Blaise? I'm heading off now," called Draco as he shrugged on his coat. Merlin, he hated raising his voice in the store. It was so plebeian. However, Blaise's habit of feigning deafness sometimes made it necessary.

"Skiver," came Blaise's reply from the storeroom.

"What's that now?" parried Draco with a smirk. Honestly, sparring with Blaise was one of the best things about his day.

As if summoned by thought, Blaise emerged from the storeroom clutching a box of stock and sporting a huge, if slightly mocking, smirk.

"Nothing, Mr Big Bossman."

Draco forced himself not to react to the annoying nickname Blaise insisted on bestowing on him and attempted to move the conversation forwards so he could leave.

"I need to head off and get sorted for the conference this weekend. Rolf has a whole pile of stuff he's asked me to pick up."

"Like what? Coffee-flavoured lube?" scoffed Blaise, as he began restocking the lucky charm and talisman display. Draco glared at him for saying such lowbrow things while there were customers mulling around the shop.

"A net made from naturally cultivated water vines — whatever that is — and some pickled almonds, of all things," answered Draco, as he clicked his fingers in an attempt to capture Ragu's attention, who resolutely ignored him and continued to let a woman and her children pet him. "Since the conference is in Brighton, there's the chance he might be able to harvest some Murtlaps. It's fine though," he continued, catching sight of Blaise's appalled expression. "He can wade around trying to catch the blighters, and I can relax with a good book and enjoy the sea air."

"But, pickled almonds? What in the name of Merlin's saggy man tits would he want with those?"

"Ragu, come on, time to go!" demanded Draco, before turning to answer Blaise. "Nice imagery! You do realise that there are children within this shop? Seriously! But to answer your question, I honestly have no idea, and I'm not stupid enough to ask. Circe knows what nonsense he would end up forcing me to listen to."

"Hey, what's with the 'tude? Everything with you and Rolf okay?"

"Yeah, we're good. There's no law stating _I_ need to love everything _he_ loves. I can get on board with _some_ of his craziness, but the Murtlap thing is one step too far. Sorry."

"Hmm, as long as you guys are good. You're sweet together."

"Sweet? We are in no way sweet, Blaise. Slytherins are not sweet, as well you know."

"Rolf isn't a Slytherin…"

"No, but _I_ am. So let it go."

"Okay, Mr Big Bossman. Oh, by the way, what are you and Rolf's pet names for each other? Moonpie and Beast man?"

"Fuck you! And it's Mooncalf and Beastie, thank you very much."

Draco tried to keep the amused smile from his face and failed utterly. "Right, I'm off."

"Erm, you do realise that the Floo is in the back room and not on the street?"

"I'm well aware," said Draco, as he gave his friend a withering look. "I'm — I don't know, restless? I just really feel like a good walk, you know?

"Ragu, heel now." With that, he turned and left the store, Ragu following close behind.

* * *

Draco breathed in the warm summer air and felt the tension bleed out from his shoulders. After all this time, being cooped up inside still made him uneasy. He strode along the pavement comfortably, watching Ragu weaving his way from one seemingly interesting spot to the next when an interesting store display caught his eye. He paused in front of the window and took in the careful arrangements of what were clearly defence items — amulets, decoys, and even an unassuming ring which, according to the plaque, had been imbued with highly powerful protection spells.

He looked down to his feet where Ragu was currently rubbing himself and then looked over at the shop sign above the door — _Haven_. Ah, this must be the competition Blaise had spoken of. He focused on his magical centre and reached out to test the wards around the shop. _Circe, they're impressive_ , thought Draco, as he prodded the intricate spellwork for weak spots or missed areas. _Nothing,_ he conceded, before deciding to investigate a little further. It wasn't like he was on a time constraint.

He crouched down and ran his hand lovingly along Ragu's back.

"What do you say, boy? Do you think you could test these wards for me?" he cooed softly. Ragu may be a great pet, but he was also a highly spoiled diva. If you wanted him to do something, you usually had to sweeten the pot.

"There's some lovely salmon in it for you, my love."

At that, Ragu began to prowl along the edge of the shop entrance and past the display window, pausing here and there in obvious contemplation. After a minute, Ragu came back to curl himself around Draco's feet, mewing in negation.

 _Curiouser and curiouser_ , thought Draco. He had never encountered a ward neither he or Ragu could break. The owner of this store was obviously talented and powerful. Draco couldn't deny that his curiosity had piqued and, after only a moment's hesitation, he scooped Ragu into his arms and stepped into the shop.

"May I help you, sir?"

Draco turned to see a young woman, obviously a member of staff, with a huge smile on her friendly face.

"No, thank you. I was just passing by and thought I would look around."

"That's no problem, sir. Most of the items you can see are for display purposes only. If you wish to commission an item, please just let me know and I'll be more than happy to help."

Draco watched her walk over to the cash desk with a puzzled look spreading across his face. _Display only_? He stood for a few minutes, absently stroking Ragu's soft coat, and concluded that he just couldn't see how that made good business sense. For the life of him, he couldn't see why the pieces lining the walls couldn't be sold. They were obviously high quality, and some displayed extremely intricate spellwork. Surely just one of them would be worth hundreds of Galleons?

"As I live and breathe! Draco Malfoy!"

Draco startled at the sudden exclamation and turned to see none other than the young female Weasley bounding towards him. Not for the first time, Draco was grateful he had extended apologies to all those who had hurt one way or another by his behaviour during the war, the Weasleys included. He had expected Ginevra to be the toughest out of them all, but surprisingly, she was the first one to accept his apology and attempt to put it behind them.

"Ginevra, nice to see you. Do you work here?"

"Well, I need to do something to keep myself busy, wouldn't you think? I split my hours between both the joke shop and this one. So, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I was passing and thought I would take a quick look. Are all these pieces for display only?"

"Yeah, defence items work best when they're tailor-made to suit the witch or wizard, apparently. How long have you been back in England?"

"A month or two, but honestly it feels like I never left."

"So, this is a bit weird, huh?" Ginny grinned, as she reached out to stroke Ragu who was still clutched in Draco's arms.

"It is a bit, yeah. I always figured you would have gone into Quidditch or something and had millions of kids with Potter."

Ginny barked out a maniacal laugh, startling Ragu enough to jump out of Draco's arms with an offended look.

"Harry? Are you mental? I don't know which one of us would have driven the other mad first! He's with Luna actually, which is perfect, 'cause she knows just how to handle his temper when it gets going."

"Luna? Now, there's something I never thought would happen. So what's old Scarface up to nowadays?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes in a mute warning before replying, "This and that. He's teaching a class just now, so you'll just have to wind him up another day."

"Right," replied Draco in confusion. _What does she mean by that?_ "Anyway, I had better get on. I've got some weird shopping and packing to do."

He quickly leaned down and scooped Ragu up again and left the shop before Ginny's eyes got any more narrow. He had no idea what he was supposed to have said, but he'd been on the receiving end of her Bat-Bogey Hex enough times in the past to risk hanging around and making it worse.

* * *

Draco took a deep sip from his glass of wine and sighed. His feet ached from running around London trying to source everything on Rolf's shopping list, and his temples were starting to throb. He leaned his head back into the chair cushions and closed his eyes, willing the tension behind them to vanish. After a moment or two, he felt much better and reached for the new letter he had received. He hadn't read the letter yet since the conditions had to be just right — he needed his wine, Ragu needed his water, and they both needed to sit and read it together. He had no idea why, but it just felt wrong any other way. He had no idea either why he waited until the evening, except he loved how the feeling of anticipation grew in his chest until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Ragu, if you don't hurry I'll start without you."

Draco had barely finished his warning before the cat in question leapt onto his lap and padded around in a circle, before plopping down into a comfortable heap. Draco took a breath, broke the seal, and began to read the contents of the letter aloud, a content smile stealing across his features the more he read.

_Dear Foodandwine69,_

_Thanks for the warning about pet disdain. Maybe I should just get a Flobberworm. Seriously, though, I used to have an owl who would do the same and made me quite aware of when I'd pissed her off. She was the best friend I've ever had. Treasure Ragu, my friend._

_As for pints, I really like an occasional cider and a nice stout. If we were out together, I'd be sure to help you pick the appropriate pairing to your pub fare. As it is, order the fish and chips with a cider and you'll be pleased._

_So you were at Hogwarts? We've previously avoided such details, but now my attention is drawn. My brain simply demands that I sort you. Ready? You are too exacting to be a Hufflepuff, I think, though you do seem very hard-working. Perhaps Ravenclaw, as you are very knowledgeable in those areas that interest you, and enjoy sharing that information. Certainly not a Gryffindor, as I can hear you planning your next letter already as I write, and I think perhaps the spontaneous Gryffindors would have driven you insane. Slytherin is a possibility, with the planning and well-ordered mind I see come out in your letters. So, yes. There you have it. I sort you in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin. You're welcome._

_I'm happy today. I must tell you that Wednesday is my favourite day. I go in late to work, I get to work alone on my projects, and I end the day making a difference in other people's lives. So today I am in the best of moods, and look forward to coming home tonight to a quiet flat, picking up a book, and relaxing._

_Oh, I almost forgot. I may not be able to write this weekend as special business will keep me busy. I hope you understand, and maybe I'll write you an extra long one to make up for it on Monday._

_Yours Truly,_

_WolfStar_

Draco placed the letter onto the side table and reached for his wine, suppressing a laugh. _Flobberworm, indeed!_ It was uncanny how close WolfStar had come to sorting him properly, considering they had yet to share a single specific fact about their lives. Yes, he had aspects of Ravenclaw about him, and to be fair, he knew that if he wasn't sorted Slytherin, then the only other option would have been Ravenclaw. However, he was Slytherin through and through. His father had made certain of that. Draco abruptly pushed away any thoughts of his father and went back to the letter.

It was funny that WolfStar was also going to be busy this weekend, but it meant they both would have letters to look forward to on Monday. With that in mind, Draco got up, much to Ragu's disgust at being disturbed, and made his way over to his desk. He would write WolfStar an extra-long letter to last him the weekend, and since he had sorted Draco, it was only fair to return the favour. Grinning like a loon, Draco dipped his quill into the inkpot and began to write.


	5. Chapter 5

The International Defence League Conference was held every summer at varying places around the world. It included two full days of seminars, meet 'n greets, product and skill demonstrations, scholarly workshops, and social gatherings. Harry hadn't attended before, usually due to his desire to avoid long trips, but also due to the fact he had a fledgeling store to take care of. As the conference was in Brighton this year, however, he didn't have much of an excuse.

Friday afternoon, Harry attempted to pack his weekend bag but his mind kept wandering, thinking about the lack of correspondence over the next few days. He finally gave up and sat down at his desk, flipping through his pile of previous missives, smiling as lines caught his attention. He loved that he and FoodandWine69 seemed to have an ongoing conversation, even when parts of the letters skipped several days. Wednesday's letter seemed to show that, as Harry's pet question was on the man's mind.

_I must say, although pet disdain can be a tad annoying, I feel that you would be making a mistake in having a Flobberworm as your chosen companion. Simply, what would they bring to the pet/owner relationship? I fear the whole thing would be entirely one-sided on your part. If a Kneazle appears to be too judgemental for your tastes, why not something a little more low maintenance? A fish? A stick insect? Or you could push the boat out and get a nice boa constrictor. Although, unless you speak Parseltongue you would need to sleep with one eye open in case you're next on the menu. I must say that, although Ragu can be a spoiled brat, I'm rather mad for him. Like everything in life, you need to take the good with the bad. The fact that he puts up with me puts him permanently in my good column._

Thursday's letter appeared to do the same, this time picking up on Harry's earlier passing comments on drink preferences.

_In regards to your recommendation, I must say that I have never had cider, nor have I ever tried fish and chips. However, I'm away this weekend and I promise I will order this exact meal if it's on the menu at all. I shall write you my culinary review on Monday at the latest!_

Friday's letter, however, gave Harry the greatest thrill. Although FoodandWine69 didn't seem to be offering any additional personal information, he didn't seem offended by Harry's jest of house sorting, and instead chose to sort him as well! His stomach began to flutter at the idea that the man seemed to know him so well.

_If I were to sort you, I would need to immediately rule out Hufflepuff, as you haven't once tried to meet up yet, nor ignore the boundaries of normal social conduct. Also, to be perfectly honest, a Hufflepuff would already have at least one pet, so I'm ruling this possibility out completely._

_Ravenclaw? I think not, my friend. Although you are obviously intelligent, you lack the clinical desire to learn everything on offer, as far as I can tell. You place importance on emotions rather than facts, and rightly so. Therefore, Ravenclaw is officially ruled out._

_Now, this is where I have difficulty. I can see both Slytherin and Gryffindor traits in your letters. You certainly have the 'act before you think/write' quality that is so charming in a Gryffindor, and you seem to have a high moral compass and want to make a positive difference in the world. All these factors point to Gryffindor. However, there's a level of ambition and need to prove yourself that I feel is underlying in your letters, which is entirely Slytherin. You see my dilemma? I suppose, considering my deduction, I would need to sort you into Gryffindor, but with Slytherin influences. A Gryfferin, if you will. Am I right?_

A Gryfferin, Harry laughed to himself. Yeah, that pretty much covered it. He wondered what it was he'd written that translated as ambition or a need to prove himself, but shrugged it off as it didn't really matter. He knew it was true, after all. His ambition wasn't really about his own life, but more about making a difference and helping others. He was just impressed that his friend had seen this through his ambiguous writings.

He finished his packing and moved the bag next to the fireplace so it'd be ready to shrink and take through the Floo later that evening when Luna arrived. A weekend at the Circe Siren Hotel and Spa Brighton might be just the thing to rekindle some romance between them, even if he was spending much of the time in workshops and lectures. He was surprised to realise that he was in good spirits and even looking forward to it.

* * *

Saturday evening found Harry exhausted and stretched out on the bed in his posh hotel suite. The double-doors were open onto a beachfront view of the sea, and Luna stood on the balcony talking to the seagulls. He watched her long blonde hair blowing in the wind, and wondered what was wrong with him that he was in such a beautiful place with such a beautiful woman, and yet could only wish he were able to curl up at home and read one of his letters.

"Harry, the dinner is in thirty minutes. You should ready yourself." Luna re-entered the room, her hair windblown and reminding him of what she looked like when she left their bed. He felt his body react and was reassured that he was still a normal red-blooded male who could become aroused at alluring sights — he was just distracted. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to him, then wrapped his arms about her waist and gave her a slight hug.

"Thank you, Luna. What would I ever do without you?"

"You'll never have to know, Harry. I'll always be your friend. And for the moment, a friend who has lovely sex with you. Now, come on and get ready, and tell me about your sessions today while you're at it."

Harry grinned and headed towards the bathroom, turning on the shower. "Well, the sessions I chose today were mostly around physical defence. The one on using magic with taekwondo was especially fascinating, so I think I'm going to start taking Muggle martial arts classes." He got into the shower and kept talking, as she was standing near the sink and could still easily hear him. He poured some shampoo into his hand, and started scrubbing his head. "Then there was a workshop on teaching defence to un-wanded children. I knew I couldn't be the only one running classes like that, but it was amazing to be in the same room with others who were also interested in teaching kids that young. It turns out Britain is ridiculously behind many of the other areas of the world in their beliefs about young children and magic, as if _that's_ any surprise. Anyway, I made some contacts and exchanged cards with people from several other countries, and we're going to do some curriculum planning together next month, maybe share some ideas."

He rinsed off quickly and stepped out, taking the plush white towel Luna handed him. She'd applied a bit of makeup while he'd been showering, and he leaned forward to give her a quick kiss on the lips.

She pushed him away with a little giggle. "Harry, stop, you're dripping and you'll ruin my makeup. But that's great about the curriculum planning! I _knew_ this conference would be good for you."

He nodded and grinned as he towelled off his hair. "You were right. Thanks, love. The rest of the day was okay, but I think my brain is full." He wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped towards the sink, picking up a comb and beginning to run it through his choppy hair.

"Don't forget to trim your beard, Harry. It's looking a bit wild this afternoon."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, _Molly_."

She giggled and threw another towel at him, then she left the bathroom as he worked on his ablutions. He leaned forward and put in his Muggle contact lenses, then began the task of trimming his beard. If he let it get more than a day or so longer than he liked it, it started to go as crazy as his hair.

As he finished, he threw on a bit of cologne, then set out to get dressed. "Did you have a nice day, then?" he asked, entering the bedroom.

She handed him the khaki trousers he'd picked out as he pulled on his pants. "I did. I did yoga on the beach for a while, then had a lovely tea by the seaside, and my massage this afternoon was heavenly. You really must try one, Harry."

He cringed at the idea of letting some stranger touch him. "Yeah, no thank you. That's not for me. But I'm glad you had a nice time." He tucked in his crisp white dress shirt, leaving a couple of buttons open at the top, and pulled on blue dress robes that hung open at the front.

Luna gave a little growl. "You look really great, Harry. I love it when you dress up."

Harry laughed and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "You look beautiful, as well. Come on. Let's go to that fancy dinner and let me show you off."

She gave him a large smile and tugged him out the door.

* * *

The conference's main formal dinner was held in a large ballroom, a beautiful chandelier casting a warm glow across all the tables. There was a large bar on one end of the room, and a display of starter food with a crowd mingling around it. They were greeted by a tall young man as they entered.

"The tables are assigned this evening, sir. May I have your names and I'll escort you both?"

Harry gave the host a smile and nodded. "Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood."

The young man simply nodded, earning Harry's respect. He glanced down at his list, then escorted them to a medium-sized round table not far from the bar. As Harry approached, his eyes scanned the room in appreciation. It was comfortable, but slightly fancy, and Harry was pleased that it'd be the perfect setting for a romantic evening.

He turned to Luna to pull out one of the two unclaimed chairs for her, but she was simply standing next to him, staring ahead with her head cocked to the side, as though she were trying to figure something out. Then she smiled broadly, and Harry finally followed her gaze to meet that of the one person he least expected to see.

It wasn't that he didn't expect to see Draco Malfoy at a defence conference; it was that he didn't expect to see Draco Malfoy anywhere — ever. Last he'd heard, the man had moved to the States or something, and given his treatment after the war, Harry had seriously doubted his old school rival would ever return.

Yet the man in front of him getting to his feet and giving a polite bow was most certainly Draco Malfoy. He looked older than Harry remembered him — which was ridiculous, because of course, he looked older, it'd been ten years — but he also looked, well, _good._ His blond hair was longer than he used to wear it, nearly long enough to brush his collar, and it fell invitingly in several short whisps across Malfoy's forehead, brushing his eyebrows and drawing attention to his smokey eyes. And didn't his jaw used to be pointy? Now it looked chiselled. And what the hell was wrong with Harry that he was just standing there, staring at the man using words in his head such as "smokey" and "chiselled"?

Harry realised everyone was watching him, and he laughed nervously, though Malfoy looked unsure of Harry's reaction. Harry reached out his hand and was pleased when Malfoy took it. "Good to see you, Malfoy. I hadn't heard you were back in England."

They let go and Malfoy nodded, then looked to the shorter man with honey-brown curls waiting on his other side. "Potter," Malfoy began. "This is my boyfriend, Rolf Scamander. Rolf, this is Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood."

Harry opened his mouth to greet the man, but Luna beat him to it. "Mr Scamander, it's an honour to meet you. I've been following your grandfather's work since I was a small child, of course, but the work you've been doing with the Erumpents in Africa has been amazing."

Rolf beamed at her. "Thank you, Miss Lovegood. I have to say that I've been quite a fan of yours, as well. Your articles on unstudied magical creatures are fascinating." Rolf grinned at Draco. "Would you mind changing seats with me, Draco? I'd love to talk with Luna about her thoughts on the Umgubular Slashkilter that was just identified off the coast of New Zealand last year."

Harry stopped himself from rolling his eyes and noticed Malfoy doing the same as he stepped out of Rolf's way. Harry leaned over. "Reckon we'll get a word with either of them the rest of the evening?"

One blond eyebrow shot up and made Harry smile.

"Yes, well, I suppose we'll have to talk amongst ourselves. The other couple at the table dropped their things ages ago and haven't returned, so we're likely on our own."

Harry noticed the disturbed napkins next to him and shrugged. "If our dates are to be quite so familiar…" Harry paused to glance at Luna. She was talking animatedly to Rolf, and he was watching her intently in return. "Well, then perhaps you should call me Harry."

A small smile crossed Draco's face and Harry could feel a strange burst of pleasure rushing through him at having caused it.

Draco drawled, "All right, _Harry_. Perhaps you should call me Draco, then." He took Luna's seat next to Harry; Luna appeared to hardly notice but moved automatically to Draco's previously held chair. A waiter approached with drinks and Harry lifted a pint off the tray, watching Draco take a glass of wine.

"So," Harry began. "What are you doing at a defence conference in Brighton? I thought you'd emigrated to America."

Draco shrugged. "I'd relocated there for a while, that's true, but Blaise convinced me it was time to come home. As to why I'm at a defence conference, I'm in the business these days, and—"

Rolf and Luna seemed to have paused their conversation for a moment as they took their own drinks, so Rolf interrupted, using the opportunity to fill Harry in. "Draco is an extremely successful businessman. He's very well respected."

Harry smiled. "Really? That's wonderful. What—"

This time Luna interrupted. "Harry's been teaching defence. He's an amazing teacher, and his classes are immensely popular."

Harry blushed. "Thanks, Luna, but really, it's more that I enjoy them and that I'm helping people, you know?"

Draco chuckled. "Always knew you had a saviour-complex, Potter."

"Harry." Harry looked at Draco out of the side of his eye and felt the side of his mouth quirk.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I always knew you had a saviour-complex, _Harry._ Better?"

Harry laughed. "Loads. So what sessions did you attend today?"

* * *

Three hours later, dinner was long over, and the two couples still sat talking closely. The third couple at the table had long since come and gone again, and not one of them had noticed. They'd switched places at the table several times, but mostly they'd maintained two completely separate conversations.

They hadn't talked at all about their own businesses, but about common acquaintances in the way two people with a shared childhood are predisposed to do. And they talked about advances in the field of defence, and current politics, and even Muggle music. Honestly, Harry was shocked to learn that he and Malfoy had that much to talk about, and was thrilled at the way the evening had turned out.

Looking at his watch and catching Luna's attention, he stood up to prepare to leave. "Oh, Draco, I promised Ginny I'd make sure to distribute my business card while I'm here. My shop information is on the card. You should stop in sometime and see what we do there."

Draco took the card with a grin, then glanced down and read the information. Harry could have sworn he saw a shadow cross the man's face, but it was gone in a flicker and a polite smile was left in its place. Confused, Harry shrugged it off and turned to take Luna's hand. "Thank you for a really interesting evening, Draco. I hope we see each other again. Genuinely."

"Oh, we most certainly will, Harry," Luna added. "Why, Rolf and I were just discussing the Nargle mating rituals, and I'd invited him out next week."

Draco looked amused at that, and Harry laughed. "Perfect. Well, good night, Rolf. Draco." And with that, he turned from the table, leading Luna back to their hotel room. She ran her fingertips up his arm lightly, and he could only think how pleased he'd been with the night. Good conversation, wonderful food, and now he was going to get some _romance._ A lovely night indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco fingered the edge of the business card pensively. When Harry had approached the table and offered to shake hands, Draco had been mesmerized by the unencumbered green eyes in the mature, bearded face of his once childhood rival. But watching Harry put his arm around Luna's shoulders as they left, Draco was struck by the sudden loss of the friendship he might have been able to have in another lifetime. _Of course,_ he scolded himself. _I should have seen this coming. I never_ could _do anything over here without Potter somehow coming along to mangle it._ He knew the new store was already leaning towards being a larger success than the one back in New York, but could he really afford to put the _Chosen One_ out of business? His return to Britain had been smooth for the most part, and for that, he was immensely grateful. However, he could only imagine the public reaction if he went toe-to-toe with Harry.

He reached for his wine and swallowed the rest of the contents, studying the small card. It was very Potter — simple, basic, exact. There was no doubt it was decent quality, but it lacked personality. Even his name was written in small, nondescript print. _Honestly, only Potter would shy away from using his own name to promote himself_ , thought Draco as he shook his head.

"What did you think of the Great Harry Potter then?" asked Rolf in a booming voice. "He seemed very nice, but a bit quiet." Rolf paused to take a sip of his drink. "I can't believe I actually got to meet Luna Lovegood! She's agreed to keep in contact, you know."

"That's great, Rolf," smiled Draco absently. "Do you mind terribly if we don't stay too late? I'm suddenly tired, and I have that lecture to give tomorrow."

Rolf leaned closer to Draco and smoothed his platinum hair away from his forehead affectionately. "You _do_ look tired, Mooncalf. Why don't we go on up, and I can help you relax?"

Draco couldn't help but smile at the suggestive look Rolf was now giving him and stood quickly, holding out his hand to his boyfriend. _Rolf might be annoying at times, but Merlin the man was irresistible_. Suddenly, Draco wasn't feeling quite as tired any longer.

* * *

The conference room was bustling with staff members and attendees chatting with each other while finding their seats. Draco stood behind the presentation screen and waited impatiently to be announced. He wasn't nervous; rather, he hated standing around at someone else's mercy. He supposed he could go over his notecards again, but there was very little point since he'd memorised them days ago in preparation. He forced himself to take several breaths and tried to relax. Idleness just didn't suit him. Thankfully, a few minutes later, he heard the conference official begin the introduction.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of all varieties of magical beings, welcome! On behalf of all members of the International Defence League, I'd like to say we're very pleased to have you here today, and I sincerely hope everyone is enjoying their time at our annual conference! This morning's lecture is on Defence and the Mass Market! So, without further ado, please welcome your speaker, Draco Malfoy, owner of Draconis Enterprises."

Deafening applause greeted Draco as he walked confidently onto the raised platform and over to the speaker's podium. He took a second to run his eyes over the crowd, trying to gauge the type of audience he had. Almost immediately, his eyes found themselves drawn to someone with black scruffy hair and piercing green eyes. _Oh, Merlin, this wasn't going to go well at all_. Trying to force his gaze away from Harry, Draco resolved to continue with his lecture as planned, and hope for the best. He took a breath, raised the microphone to better meet his height, and launched into his presentation.

"Traditionally, defence items have always been custom-made or added to precious heirlooms for an immoderate, and sometimes excessive, amounts of money. Since not all magical beings have access to such funds, or indeed such heirlooms, the majority of these products are commissioned and owned by prominent, traditionally pure-blood wizarding families. This restriction leads to outdated thinking to take hold, such as the idea that only those of a certain bloodline, or social status, or even _species_ , should be _allowed_ to own such objects — that less affluent wizards and other magical creatures are undeserving of such objects."

Draco paused for a moment for effect, before continuing. "It is this lack of proper distribution of defence artefacts among _all_ magical beings — and not just the wizarding elite — that I have attempted to address in my professional life. The answer to this problem is to make defence items affordable and common, making them accessible to anyone who needs or desires them."

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur as Draco outlined the benefits of mass-production, light charmwork limitations on semi-precious metals, and spectrum-magical application, where-in he was able to lay low-level charms and spells upon many items with very minor magical output and energy. Overall, the lecture was going well, as far as he could tell. No one had fallen asleep or stormed out in disgust. Several very perceptive questions had been posed by the attendees and, all in all, he felt he was making decent progress. With any luck, some of the people here would be future customers. However, that was the moment when Harry decided to act the Gryffindor, in every sense of the word.

"Excuse me, I have a query if that's okay?"

"We're not at the next question stage as yet, Sir; however, I'm happy to make an exception. What's your question?"

"I simply fail to see how you can claim to be able to mass-produce defence items and still guarantee their performance when being used. Everyone knows that defence is a very specific branch of magic, and the best results come from items being custom-made to synchronise with the wearer's magical core."

Harry looked angry and upset, which Draco noted was never a good thing. _Where was Lovegood when you needed her_ , he thought irritably. _Hadn't Ginevra said she was an expert at managing his stupidly impulsive temper?_

"Yes, there _are_ benefits to custom-made items, and I would by no means suggest that people completely eschew these items," answered Draco, determined to keep things civil. "However, as I said before, custom items are only available to a limited number of people. My products are made to react positively to any magical core."

"And just what do you do if your product doesn't work as well for one person as it would for another?" countered Harry aggressively. "A well-made custom made defence item will have a one hundred per cent success rate when used properly. How can a mass-produced item match that?"

Draco took a moment to breathe before answering. It simply would not do to lose his temper in front of potential clients. "We do rigorous testing on a number of different subjects in order to ensure our products will work for everyone. Anyone using them as instructed can expect a success rate of no less than eighty per cent, although the average percentage is usually closer to ninety. Yes, it would be nice to guarantee one hundred per cent strength in our items at any time, but it would be misleading, and I would never presume to lead my customers so astray."

"Is that so?" demanded Harry, his face growing red in obvious anger. "So, you would rather just openly tell your customers that you're happy for them to buy less than perfect items, causing them to put faith in something which may or may not work to full capacity? And you think that you're not misleading them?"

"No, I don't think I am. I am completely open and honest about the pros and cons of each of my products, and I ensure each customer knows of any limitations before they purchase anything. I ensure that they are advised on how to work within those limitations effectively." Draco could feel his chest begin to tighten in anxiety. He knew what Harry was like when he had a bee in his bonnet, and he hoped to Salazar that the man would just shut up and sit down for once in his miserable life.

"Forgive me, but I find myself fascinated," snarked Harry, his voice laced with disdain. "Just what do you advise them?"

Draco tried to ignore the beads of sweat beginning to roll down the back on his neck into his collar. "It would be far too time-consuming to go into the matter in its entirety at the moment, as there is a programme to adhere to. However, suffice it to say, I advise my customers about magical intent and responsibility. "

"You are hardly the best person to lecture anyone on magical intent and responsibility, don't you think?" asked Harry incredulously. However, Draco had finally had enough and resolved to return the focus back to the subject at hand.

"Mr Potter, I'm sure if you allow me to finish the lecture, I will answer your questions personally at the end. However, this is not a great injustice, and you are not on some saviour crusade. With that in mind, kindly retake your seat, _sir_."

The sight of Harry's face draining of colour gave Draco a spark of regret, and he watched the anger furrowing the scarred brow be replaced by an embarrassed frown. There was a pensive silence as the crowd waited to see what would happen next. However, the flash of a reporter's camera seemed to shock Harry out of his confusion, and Draco watched as he looked at those around him with regretful eyes. Then, murmuring a vague apology for disrupting the proceedings, Harry stepped carefully out of his row of chairs and left the room. Draco took a moment to centre himself before resuming the lecture. Somehow — for some reason — knowing that he'd caused that look on Harry's face was painful. _Merlin, I'm practically a Hufflepuff!_ However, he forced himself to take a deep breath and continue with the programme, refusing to give any attention whatsoever to the sight of Potter leaving the conference room looking defeated. No matter how much he wanted to.

* * *

The crack from his Apparition sounded extra loud to Draco's ears as he landed in the middle of his living room. He set his travel bag onto the floor and walked immediately over the drinks cabinet, poured himself a large measure of Borteg's firewhisky and swallowed it back in one. He stood for a few minutes as he rolled the heavy crystal glass between his fingers and ran his mind back over the events of the last two days. Seeing Potter again. No, seeing Harry again. There was just no way he could think of him as Potter any more, not after their dinner conversation. The vibrancy of his green eyes. The excitement at the thought of finally bridging their rivalry and the sweet possibility of a tentative friendship. The familiar Gryffindor rage surging within Harry's eyes and the passion in his questioning voice. The vicious, cold cruelty of his own words as he aimed to wound.

The regret and anger and shame swirling around in his stomach suddenly became overwhelming and Draco screamed in desperation, then threw his glass against the wall, barely even registering the crash as it shattered. His breaths came in short, shallow bursts, and he could feel angry tears begin to slide their way down his face. _Why does it always come back to_ him _?_

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, staring at the shards of crystal littering the expensive wooden floor. His muscles were aching from the tension coiling within them and he was still shaking slightly. His face was now dry, although the red rims of his puffy eyes betrayed his momentary lapse. His breathing had returned almost to normal and, thankfully, so had his levels of control. Sparing a thought for how grateful he was that no one had witnessed his breakdown, he raised his wand and vanished the mess.

He needed to relax, he decided, and poured himself another drink in a new glass, settling himself at his desk. He needed comfort, and there was only one person he knew of that could possibly give him that. He startled slightly at the feeling of something rubbing against his ankles and relaxed at the telltale purring of his companion. _Okay,_ he thought, _there are two someone's who can give me comfort_. He smiled to himself as he reached down to stroke Ragu's back. After a moment he pulled a sheet of parchment and an eagle quill out of his drawer, then began to scratch away.

_My Dearest WolfStar,_

_I know you said you would be away and that you'll write tomorrow, but I've had one of the worst days in a long time and I just needed someone with whom to talk it out. Strangely, the only person I could think of was you. How sappy is that? I bumped into someone from my past this weekend, and I'm sorry to say I didn't handle the situation very well. I felt put on the defensive, and I snapped. I was cruel and cold, and I'm certain I hurt them._

_To be honest, I'm not sure why I'm feeling this amount of regret since this person actively hates me and has hated me for our entire, shall we say, acquaintance. Except, I know the sort of man I want to be is far from what I displayed to this person. I always thought I was better than that._

_So there you have it! You thought I was mature and refined when in actual fact, I'm a brute. Mindless, boorish, and uncouth. Whatever shall I do with myself?_

_Well, I think that's enough self-pity for now. If I'm not careful I'll end up huddled in a corner listening to country music, and we can't have that, now can we?_

_I hope your weekend thing, whatever it was, went well. I'm sure listening to me lament about my tragically upsetting weekend has simply rounded things off nicely for you. Much like the proverbial icing on the cake._

_Thanks for listening, friend. I feel better having written it out, but I must ensure to hold on to my regret, I find it goes well with a nice glass of Merlot._

_Your friend,_

_FoodandWine69_

Draco sent the letter off to the post box with Petris and sighed, feeling a lot lighter than he had before writing. Wearily, he hefted himself out of the chair and made his way to his bedroom. He was exhausted, and hopefully tomorrow, there would be a letter from WolfStar waiting for him after he finished work.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry slammed the door to his flat behind him and threw his bag on the floor. Fucking Draco Malfoy and his fucking generic knock-off "get it here for cheap" attitude could go to hell. He went into his bedroom and threw himself across his bed, staring at the ceiling and fuming about the events of the previous few hours.

He'd been humiliated and embarrassed as he made his way back to his hotel room but had to wait another three hours while Luna finished looking for Plimpies on the beach with Rolf Scamander, evidently. And fucking Rolf Scamander and his pleasant fucking face had the bollocks to wish Harry a lovely afternoon when he greeted Harry upon Luna's return.

How the fuck did Draco Malfoy date such a nice fucking bloke as that? The thought made Harry jump up off his bed and begin to pace. He knew he was a mess, his emotions and thoughts in turmoil. Luna refused to even spend the evening with him, telling him that he was upsetting her aura and he needed to go home and try a new detoxification routine. Detoxification of what, Harry wasn't sure, but he was sure it wouldn't fucking help. He'd like to detoxify Draco Malfoy's fucking face — _that_ would help.

Harry heard his Floo chime and Ginny stepped through warily as he entered the living room. "Harry? Luna stopped by and said you were back, but that something was disrupting your aura and that maybe I could help?" Ginny looked amused until she saw Harry's face, then she walked to his phone sitting on his end table and picked it up. She raised an eyebrow, and when he didn't respond — honestly, he was still too pissed off and didn't trust himself to be civil — she began to dial. "Hi, I need to order two pizzas, please. Yeah, this is Mr Potter's flat. Mmhmm, yes, the usual is fine. Wait, add pineapple to one of them, please. Thank you."

Harry scowled, but she simply grinned and made a rude gesture as she approached his refrigerator, withdrawing two beers and handing him one. He took it and watched her make herself at home on his sofa.

"Okay, so out with it, Harry. What's got you in such a pisser of a mood?"

Harry sat down next to her, resigned to her company. "Draco Fucking Malfoy."

She started to choke as she'd just taken a drink. Coughing, she sat up and wiped her mouth on her shoulder. "Shit! I never got a chance to tell you! I was off the rest of the week, and then you were gone. So, what happened? Did you go into that fancy store of his?"

"Wait, you fucking knew? You knew he owned that — that knock-off store and you didn't tell me?"

"Shut it, Potter, and listen!" Ginny sat up straight and glared.

Harry crossed his arms and sat back with a huff.

"He came into the store on Wednesday night while you were teaching. I talked to him for a few minutes, and he looked around curiously, asked a few questions about what you were up to, then left."

Harry felt his anger rising even further. "So he _knew_ I owned Haven?"

Ginny seemed to think about it, then shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. He asked about you, but nothing specifically about the store, and I mentioned you were teaching but didn't say anything about the store itself. It's possible he didn't know."

He scowled. "Not bloody likely. He always liked to know everything that was going on. And then he meets me at the conference and lets me be all companionable with him, making small talk and chatting like friends, and all the while he was fucking laughing at me because I didn't know he was the owner of the store trying to put me out of business!"

The Floo chimed again and Ginny got up to pay and take the pizzas. She kept talking as she gathered plates and napkins in the kitchen, then returned and dropped everything onto Harry's coffee table. She reached in and made him a plate and shoved it in front of him. "Eat."

"Fine."

She sat back down with her own food and turned toward him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet underneath her. "So, go on. You talked and were friendly at the conference. Then what?"

"Then I gave him my fucking business card like a stupid idiot and went back to my room. The next day, all was fine until I went to a session where he was the bloody speaker! Gin, you should have seen him up on that stage, spouting nonsense about how custom defence work was elitist and eliminated the common man from owning protective items. _Me_ , elitist!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Well, Harry, he's _not_ wrong. And did he call _you_ that, personally?"

He grunted. "No, not me personally, but he had to know I was in the room. It's not like I was hiding or anything. But he went on about how mass-produced items make defence available to those of less wealth and status, and to magical beings who might not otherwise be able to obtain them. As though I discriminate against who I sell to!"

"Of course you don't," she said sweetly, and Harry could hear the condescension in her voice.

"I _don't!"_

"No, you don't, but the prices required for your products are a kind of discrimination in themselves, aren't they?"

Harry felt punched in the gut at her suggestion. "Ginny, what—"

"No, Harry, stop for a moment. I know you put hours of work into what you do, and the prices you charge are reasonable for that work. But you can't pretend to believe that people who aren't affluent can afford them. Think about it. Don't you think my parents would have loved to have purchased items like this when we were young? The prices we charge are as much as some people make in an entire month, and that's for the lower-end work. For the really valuable stuff, it takes expensive precious metals and gems to be able to hold the amount of magic you pour into it. It's unreasonable to expect that everyone can afford those things."

Harry felt chastened, but still as though she wasn't being fair. "But that's why I also teach classes. I show people how to do some of their own basic spells, and I teach classes on how to defend yourself. Those are affordable and are reasonable alternatives. I only do what I can do."

She nodded with a look of understanding in her eyes. "I know, they are reasonable alternatives, but so are mass-produced items. They aren't perfect, but they are accessible. People like my parents can afford to buy them and still pay their rent on their flat, or buy their children's school supplies. They can afford to buy items for their loved ones who need protection, but who they maybe don't trust with expensive gear. Harry, it's _affordable_. The alternative is that they have nothing to protect themselves with."

Harry found he had no words. He stared at the untouched pizza on his plate and his stomach turned. "I'm not elitist."

"No, you're not, and if he insinuated that, it was wrong of him to do so. But is there a chance you attacked him first?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Honestly, I can't even remember now; it's all a blur. I was just so angry — at his products, at his arguments that the custom-made items were inaccessible, at the fact that he didn't tell me he owned Draconis — I just don't remember what all I said and in what order."

She nudged him with her foot, and when he looked up, she smiled. "Do you want me to hit him with a Bat-Bogey Hex next time I see him? For old times sake?"

Harry gave a little laugh. "Yeah, that'd help." He took a bite of his pizza, the anger finally gone and the disgust settling in his gut. "Gin, what would Fred say? Would he think that I've turned into an elitist snob, only selling to the rich?"

"Oh, Harry," Ginny said with a soft sigh. "Fred would be so proud of what you'd built out of his little line of anti-Dark-Arts gear. You do really great work, and it's important. Mostly, though, I think Fred would have loved to take the piss out of you for worrying about all this. He'd say, 'Harry, little bro, you have to remember, it's not personal, it's business.' And then he'd hand you a Canary Cream to cheer you up." Ginny finished with a little sniffle, and this time Harry nudged _her_ with _his_ foot.

"Thanks, Gin. You're a great friend, you know."

Ginny gave him a smile, wiping the little tear out of her eye. "Yeah, I know. Now, go get me another beer to go with my pizza and tell me about the rest of the weekend, then we can plan on how we're going to get back at Malfoy."

Harry laughed and got up to do just that.

* * *

_Dear FoodandWine69,_

_Do you believe in the idea that you curse yourself by talking about something good, so that it gets taken away? Just a month ago I was telling you that I felt my life was at a pinnacle. This just serves as a reminder to keep your mouth shut when things are going overly well. I feel like it's the story of my life. If something gets good, it falls apart._

_Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm in a bad mood because I can't figure out what to do, and uncertainty is not something with which I deal well. I'm wondering if perhaps you could lend me some of that Slytherclaw (I don't care if you haven't confirmed your house, I'm still sure I'm right) cunning and knowledge to help me figure out my problem?_

_Okay, so here it goes. I learned several weeks ago that my business may be in trouble. Yes, I own a business (is that too much information? If so, Obliviate yourself, I suppose, haha). Seriously, though, my business means a lot to me, and not just because it's the source of my income. My work makes me feel more like myself than anything else I've ever done. Does that make sense? The business has some sentimental value, as well as a tribute to a close friend who passed, but mostly, the work I do fills me with a sense of fulfilment and happiness that I don't get anywhere else._

_And that business is in trouble. It's threatened from an outside source, but it's also threatened because I'm questioning everything I always thought I knew about what I do. What if it's not right? What if what made me feel worthy and happy is not a good thing?_

_Honestly, I usually just listen to my gut and go with it — reckless, perhaps, but it's always worked well for me in the past — but for the first time, I'm not sure I trust what my gut is telling me._ _How do I fight both this outside threat to my business while I'm also fighting my own fears about whether or not I'm doing the right thing?_

_I'm not sure if it's fair to ask your help with something like this when you don't know any of the particulars, but if nothing else, just knowing that you are on my side is encouragement that I'm sure will help._

_Yours,_

_WolfStar_

Harry finished off his letter and attached it to Meg's waiting, outstretched leg. "Thank you, girl." He gave her a little pat and, receiving a soft hoot in reply, sent her on her way.

It'd been almost three weeks since the opening of Draconis and that dreadful event at the conference. In that time, the volume of Harry's business had definitely decreased. He wasn't worried about financials, really. He had a steady source of income from other investments and a good deal of savings, but Haven was a subsidiary of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and he poured part of the profits back into the company. He knew that George and Percy did well enough on their own in WWW, but it felt good to be contributing to the family business. It made him feel like family. And if Haven wasn't profitable, would it make sense to keep it running?

It was raining, but Harry grabbed an umbrella and walked out the front door. He'd be in a terrible mood the entire day if he didn't get his morning walk in. He pulled his jacket tight against the blowing rain sneaking under the umbrella, and distracted himself from his discomfort by pondering his letter. He really had no idea what kind of experience his friend might have with business or whatnot, but perhaps he'd have some general insight.

A chill ran through Harry as a cool wind blew, and he desperately wanted something hot to drink, preferably something with a lot of caffeine. He looked up and realised he hadn't yet passed the little coffeeshop he sometimes frequented. He hurried his steps, jumping puddles and dodging the few other insane pedestrians passing by. Finally, he reached the aromatic shop and pulled the door open, pushing down his evidently useless umbrella. Smothering the urge to shake off like a wet dog, he stood quietly in line, distracting himself with further thoughts of letters, when he heard a drawl at the counter that made him cringe.

Draco Malfoy was at the counter ordering a coffee. He hadn't seemed to notice Harry, so Harry turned his back to the man and ducked his head, trying to disappear without doing any magic in a Muggle establishment.

Now that Harry was listening, he could hear the man's crisp upper-class accent clearly. "Yes, thank you, fat-free milk and an extra shot of espresso."

Harry rolled his eyes at the idea. Fat-free, extra espresso. He was so fucking prissy. Harry glanced over his shoulder and watched him discreetly. Malfoy's blond hair was pulled back on top but was left down on the bottom to drape over his collar. Harry followed the line of his tailored coat down to where it ended just above the man's perfectly-fit trousers hugging his arse in a way that shouldn't be legal.

It was at that moment, where Harry found himself admiring the tosser's arse, that the man turned and caught Harry's gaze. He carried his drink and walked closer, then without a pause, just nodded and muttered, "Potter, nice to _see_ you," and left with a smirk.

Harry could feel his face flush at being caught watching his lifetime rival's arse. How did he keep getting caught in these situations? He wanted to just bang his head against the wall a few times, maybe knock some sense back into it.

Instead, he waited his turn, ordered his own drink, and practically ran to Haven.

* * *

Hermione looked up from the books and gave Harry a sad smile, laying her hand across her somewhat protruding stomach. "I'm sorry, Harry. New orders and sales are down by forty-five per cent overall, each week a bit more than the week before. At his rate, your orders won't be enough to keep you in the black."

Harry sat down next to her at the consultation counter and sighed. Andromeda sat across from them working on a crossword puzzle, and Ginny stood at the end listening, but doing stretches to prepare to help with Harry's evening Phoenix-level defence class. Everyone in the class was over seventy years old, and the old men just loved to have Ginny's help.

"Okay, so orders are down, but how are classes?"

Hermione shrugged. "Steady, as usual. One class per night isn't enough to keep you solvent, though. Something is going to have to change."

Harry nodded. "I asked my pen pal if he has any ideas. He's really brilliant, and maybe he'll come up with something we're not seeing."

Andromeda laughed. "How _is_ your friend? When are you going to meet him?"

"He's well. And what do you mean, when are we going to meet?"

Ginny spoke up. "Hasn't he asked yet?"

"No. We're pen pals. Do people generally meet pen pals?" Harry felt sceptical.

"Well," Hermione began with a hum, "no, but people don't generally have deep soul-connections with their pen pals and write to them daily for seven months straight, either."

Harry blushed. "Yes, well, he hasn't asked."

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Harry asked with a defensive whine to his voice.

"Have you done anything else, then? Have you exchanged sexy letters?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Andromeda, who continued her puzzle not looking up, but with a smile on her face.

"Ginny, I hardly think that it's appropriate to exchange sexy letters with a pen pal. Especially when we're both in relationships with other people."

"Too right," Hermione piped up. "Though you hardly speak of Luna romantically anymore, Harry. Maybe you should consider whether you're interested in still keeping that aspect of your relationship going."

Harry shrugged, thinking that Hermione was uncomfortably close to the truth on that one.

However, then she continued. "But if you do get that figured out, sexy letters can be very erotic. When Ron's gone on a mission, I—"

"Nope!" Harry and Ginny both interrupted in panicked unison.

"No, Hermione. I do _not_ want to hear about you and my brother and your kinky letters," Ginny said adamantly.

"And you know you and Ron both promised me you'd never bring that stuff up in my presence," Harry added, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. "Besides, I'm sure Andromeda doesn't want to hear about things like that."

Andromeda laughed lightly. "You'd be surprised, Harry. Why, when I was young, poor Ted and I were separated for months before I finally managed to escape my parents, and the letters we exchanged were amazingly sensual. There's so much that can be communicated in the language of love."

Harry felt his mouth fall open in shock, but Ginny and Hermione both laughed, and Ginny drew close. "Oh, please, go on, Andromeda. I _must_ hear."

Harry stood and backed away in horror. "I, ah, need to go get ready for my class. I'll… just… let you ladies talk, then." And, with that, he fled to the lesson room, not at all ashamed at his cowardice. There were just some things a bloke didn't need to hear from a woman who held a motherly status in his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

It was after six in the evening and, somehow, the sun was still warm as it began to dip in the cloudless sky. Draco lounged back in his chair and stretched. There was nothing better than relaxing in a beer garden after a long day in the office. He looked over to his friend who was currently fishing around in the dregs of his drink for unmelted ice cubes and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What the devil are you doing? Are you seriously fishing around in your glass? Surely your mother taught you better manners than that?"

"Shush. Am practically dying of thirst here. How long has it been since we ordered?"

"About five minutes. Give the poor girl a chance, Blaise, the place is packed, after all."

At that moment, as if conjured, the waitress appeared bearing their drinks on a tray.

"Sorry about the wait, gents. Large Cabernet?" Draco raised his hand and she placed the glass carefully in front of him. "That must mean you're the pink gin cocktail?" she smiled, placing the fancy glass in front of Blaise. "It's not often we have such a, well, manly patron order such a feminine drink," she teased.

"I love the taste and am happy displaying my manliness in other areas," Blaise responded with a leer.

The barmaid gave his shoulder a squeeze and, with a coy wink, made her way back to the bar and the drinks waiting to be delivered. Draco smirked as he watched Blaise lean forward in his chair, his eyes fixated on the barmaid's sashaying hips.

"Oh, wind your tongue back in. Honestly. She's a good few years younger than you."

"Whatever. Like you wouldn't hit that!"

"Hello? Gay, remember?"

"I don't care how gay you are, those hips and that arse transcend sexuality. You would do it, and you know it."

Draco shook his head in amused exasperation and took a grateful sip of his drink. There really was no helping Blaise, he was a ladies man through and through. Although he was never one to say no to a guy with a fine arse, it would take more than that to turn Draco's head properly.

 _Merlin, I love this time of year_ , he thought to himself. The sun was warm but not too hot, making evenings outside pleasant. People were milling around the street, slovenly making their way to meet friends for dinner or drinks. Draco loved watching them, how they greeted each other and laughed without a care in the world. So often he wondered what it would be like to simply be and not have to worry constantly about how you were viewed and by whom.

As he let his eyes roam, he spotted a familiar mop of black hair making its way to where he sat in the beer garden in front of the pub, and he could feel himself physically recoil. _Not Potter. There's no way my luck's that bad!_ But, sure enough, there he was — the man himself, grin wide on his open face, laughing away with none other than Ron Weasley, lugging boxes of who knew what towards the joke shop situated further along the street. _Merlin, what a sight Potter made_ , thought Draco. Sweat glistening on his brow and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows — almost enough to turn his head. _Almost_.

At that moment, Harry seemed to sense someone watching him and inexplicably turned his gaze in Draco's direction. Draco, thankfully having been watching Harry, had the fortune of a split-second warning and immediately threw himself out of his chair and onto the ground beneath the table.

"What the fu—"

"Shut the fuck up, Blaise!" hissed Draco, trying to keep himself under the tablecloth and out of sight. Unfortunately, at that moment, Draco's wrist holster became caught on a snagged thread on the tablecloth, and as he yanked it away, his wand dislodged and landed in a bright and rather loud eruption of sparks.

"Circe's flaming tits, Draco! What the fuck!" yelled Blaise, as he threw himself away from the table, knocking both his chair and the table over in the process.

Draco froze in position, couched on the floor next to his wand with every eye in the immediate vicinity upon him and Blaise, including Harry's.

Draco, with great trepidation, looked up and locked eyes with Harry, those green orbs seeming to rake over his features mercilessly.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted reluctantly.

"Potter," he returned somewhat flusteredly. "I dropped my wand —"

Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he leaned towards the Weasel who was whispering something in his ear. Harry appeared to listen to whatever the man had to say before he shrugged at the street at large, and they both continued on their way towards the joke shop.

Draco slowly stood up and, with a flick of his wand, righted the table and chairs and vanished the spilt drinks. He gestured to the barmaid to bring them the same again and settled himself back into his chair, resolutely ignoring the judgemental look currently decorating Blaise's handsome features. Once their drinks had been replaced, Draco finally chanced a look towards his friend, only to find Blaise's face crinkled almost comically in an attempt not to laugh.

"Okay, old boy. It seems like you have some explaining to do?"

"Don't be daft, I just dropped my wand, is all."

"Actually, you threw yourself down there _before_ your wand did its attention-seeking spark thing. You hit the deck _specifically_ when you noticed Potter. So, spill."

"Spill what? What do I care what Potter does? I dropped my wand. End of. Let it go, Blaise," Draco warned in mortification.

"What the actual fuck, Draco? I'm meant to be one of your best mates. So either you were hiding from Potter, or you decided to feign dropping something so you could slink under our table for a look at my goods — which is it? And, remember, I'm one of the few who can tell when you're talking shite!"

Draco knew there would be no way Blaise would let it go, his tenacity was one of his best and worst qualities. He took a fortifying gulp of his drink and settled in for a rather embarrassing, if enlightening, explanation of the last month or so.

"So, what you're telling me is that you fancy Potter? Salazar, that's it, isn't it? You've got the stiffies for Potter?" asked Blaise, looking like all his Christmases had come at once.

"Fuck off, Blaise. Seriously, get yourself to actual fuck. I have no interest in Potter, romantic or otherwise, except for avoiding him. He's an arse, and he basically tried to embarrass me and sabotage my lecture. I just want to keep out of his way."

"Nope," affirmed Blaise, mirth-filled gaze firmly fixed upon Draco. "I'm not buying it, mate. There are several indications that you want in Potter's pants, but if nothing else, you're beetroot. Seriously! You, the palest person in existence, actually have some colour for a change. You, my friend, are blushing."

"Go take a long walk off of a short cliff, Blaise." He let out a huff, feeling strenuously put out.

* * *

Draco shucked out of his robes and threw himself down onto the sofa. Nevermind his usual routine — this evening had been one hell of a trial. Once Blaise had got it into his head that he fancied Harry, he was like a bloody Grim with a bone. No matter what Draco said, Blaise just shook his head and maintained his Potter-ship hypotheses. Merlin, not even a bottle of wine had managed to make Draco calm enough to enjoy the evening. Finally, he cut his losses and went home, the taunts and jeers of Blaise's immaturity ringing in his ears. He closed his eyes and let the drunken waves of his indulgence wash over him, lulling him ever closer to sleep. Draco hoped it wouldn't take too long for oblivion to come.

However, after a few moments, Draco became aware that Ragu was prowling around on his desk, occasionally pawing at his mail stack. _Wolfstar,_ thought Draco, suddenly wide awake as he scrambled off the bed and into his desk chair. Sure enough, his house-elf had placed Wolfstar's latest letter at the forefront of his other mail. Unable to wait until morning, Draco conjured a glass, filled it with water, and began to read.

* * *

Several glasses of water later, Draco was still sitting at his desk wondering whether to send his reply. He was worried. Wolfstar's letters were usually upbeat and a bit random, but this? This was a cry for help. The desperation the man must have been feeling when he wrote it was clear in every word. The writing, usually so sloping and carefree, had a spiky, jagged appearance to it. _Merlin, I hate that he's feeling so lost._ Draco looked at the letter he had scratched out and read it through once more.

_Dear Worrier, aka Wolfstar,_

_First of all, I need you to take a deep cleansing breath and relax. I have it on good authority that it can help when feeling anxious and out of control, and if it doesn't, at least it will distract you for a second. Breathe in, breathe out. Now repeat._

_All right? All cleansed and feeling better?_

_I'm sorry you're having a difficult time at the moment. I must confess, your letters have been a little less carefree of late and I was starting to wonder if everything was all right. I don't believe in tempting fate or calling jinx on circumstances, so I don't think for a second that you caused this by choosing to take a moment and enjoy things going well. Why wouldn't you? Everyone loves a little bit of basking now and then. Rather, I think nothing is permanent and sometimes the soaring highs can leave you feeling winded when they're replaced by a sudden sweeping low._

_From what you say, it sounds like what's upset you most is, not that your business is in trouble, but that you allowed your guard down and therefore didn't notice any potential threats to the business before they occurred. You were in control of the situation, and now you feel you are no longer able to manage your own circumstances. I completely understand. I too feel the need to be in control as much as possible, as I lacked it in any sense in my life within my childhood and teenage years._

_So, if I am right so far, and I hope I am, the least I can do is offer some Slytherclaw advice — yes, I have just confirmed I am one of the two…but which one? My advice, such as it is, is as follows._

_You have two problems — one internal and one external, but both related. How can you possibly solve anything if you are at war within yourself? Therefore, you need to find a way to make peace with the fact that you think you're not enough. You've mentioned you think you're not making a difference, that what you want and what is right are two different things. Why do they need to be separate? You said that you feel like you help people by making a difference in people's lives. How can that be wrong or unworthy? It seems like this aspect of your business is what makes you the happiest, and, therefore, I would advise you to focus on this aspect of it. If you make yourself happy within, your business will flourish in turn._

_I hope I've managed to help at least a little. It's difficult to give advice minus specific information but you do seem to be most happy when you feel you're helping others. I can only hope you're not in the crime side of business and I've just managed to convince you to go on some weird killing spree. Lastly, I want to assure you that you can_ _always_ _ask me for advice or even just vent to me._

_Yours most sincerely,_

_FoodandWine69_

_P.S. Do you think we should meet in person?_

Well, he had asked Draco to give his advice, and that was what he was going to do. With any hope, Wolfstar would get the encouragement and comfort he was so clearly needing. He quickly rolled up the parchment, sealed it, and sent it off with Petris before he could change his mind.

* * *

The next day, Draco found himself feeling stressed as he walked up the steps to Gringotts Bank and held the door open for Pansy. Of all the things he had to do today, the bank was the most tedious.

"Oh, come on, Draco. Get that pout off your face. You're a grown man, for Circe's sake!" admonished Pansy.

"I don't see why you couldn't just come on your own. I've got a million things to get done today," whined Draco, perfectly aware he was sounding like a petulant child.

"Why should I? It's your shop, after all," dismissed Pansy, her heels clanking on the stone floor as they walked through the bank foyer.

"Oh my! Don't look now, Draco sweetie, but it looks like your loverboy is coming this way."

"Loverboy?"

The second he realised she was talking about Potter, his bafflement turned to annoyance.

"Fuck off, Pansy. Since when has Potter been anything except a pain in my arse?"

"That's not what Blaise says," teased Pansy, clearly enjoying herself.

He was prevented from answering as Potter had managed to draw level with them, distaste clearly etched onto his handsome features.

"Are you heading to sit in your vault and stroke your Galleons like Scrooge McDuck?"

"Who in Merlin's name is Scrooge whatever you just said?"

Harry rolled his eyes and sneered. "Suffice it to say, he's a cold, heartless bastard who has a cheque book instead of a heart. Sound familiar, Malfoy?"

"Jealous, Potter? I suppose my fortune must seem pretty impressive to you when you spend all your time at the Weasel's hovel."

"Whatever, Malfoy. At least they're not morally bankrupt."

"Speaking of being bankrupt, is that why you're here, Potter? Trying to get a loan to save your pathetic, elitist little business? Is there a shortage in the Potter family vault?" Draco knew he was being unnecessarily horrible, but his mouth felt out of sync with his brain and he just went with it.

"Oh, I get it, Potter. Mummy and Daddy weren't alive long enough for them to have left you anything decent and now, poor little you doesn't have two Knuts to rub together? It's a pity you have zero business ability without the dead twin to bail you out with actually decent products."

Draco watched Harry's face tighten as if trying to ignore a toothache, and although he kept his Malfoy mask firmly in place, he felt his own heart crack at the sight. After a painfully tense moment where Draco thought Harry might hex him, the man nodded stiffly and left. _Salazar, what the hell made me say that?_ he wondered.

He pulled himself together and turned to Pansy. "Shall we? The Galleons aren't going to withdraw themselves, you know."

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Like what?"

"Draco, something isn't right with you. That — whatever that was — with Potter was just plain weird."

"What? We always fight!"

"Yeah, but to annoy each other, not to make the other want to kill themselves. I mean, your last dig at him?" Pansy let out a low whistle through her teeth.

"Whatever, Pans."

And he stalked off towards the withdrawal line, determined not to think just how much like his father he had managed to become.

* * *

_Dear Wolfstar,_

_Do you ever look in the mirror and hate what you see staring back at you? Sometimes I really hate myself. Don't get me wrong — I'm lucky in so many ways. I have family, friends, security, and a purpose. It's just I have this nasty side to my personality. If I feel attacked or cornered, I go for the jugular. At the time it feels justified. Good even, but only for a minute. It's pretty much guaranteed that once the moment has passed I end up feeling shite. Why do I do this? Am I just a horrible person? Because I don't want to be. What am I supposed to do?_

_I don't expect an answer to this really, other than you telling me to get a grip and think before I open my mouth. I suppose I just needed to get it out of my system._

_Thank you, for being the one constant positive in my life._

_Yours,_

_FoodandWine69_

Draco looked over his letter before rolling it up and sending it off. It was safe to say that he felt like absolute crap. Why attack Potter like that? There really was no excuse and the knowledge that he was the one responsible for making Potter's face look that way made something inside him ache.

He looked at the clock and realised that it was well after eleven. He had an early meeting with the suppliers at eight, and he could feel the fatigue coursing through his body bone-deep.

He got up, scooped Ragu into his arms, and made his way to his bedroom for some much-needed comfort and sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

"Let me get this straight. You've been writing secret letters to a pen pal for over half a year and haven't told us about them?"

Harry was having dinner with Ron and Hermione at their place, Ron having made one of Molly's lasagne. Harry shifted uncomfortably under Ron's glare and stared longingly at his plate of cheese and sauce-laden pasta. He was beginning to regret his decision to tell the two about FoodandWine69's advice over dinner and to get their opinion on the letter's final question. "Actually—"

Hermione interrupted. "Actually, Harry told Andromeda, Ginny, and me about it a month ago."

Ron looks affronted. "What the hell, Harry?"

Harry took a bite of his pasta to give him more time, and Hermione raised an eyebrow as he stalled. He followed up with a sip of his water and wiped his mouth. "Well, you've been busy with that big case at work, and we talked about it at the shop. I haven't told Luna about it, either," he added defensively.

That made Ron suspicious. "Wait, why hide the letters from Luna? Are they _romantic_ or something?"

Harry blushed. "No, not really."

He watched as his best friends exchanged a look, then Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry. "But you wouldn't mind if they were, right?"

Harry looked up in surprise.

Ron gave a little huff of annoyance. "My emotional range is no longer that of a teaspoon, Harry. Hermione would have left me ages ago if it were. Besides, I had to learn something about people in Auror Training, don't you think? Anyway, we're completely off track." Ron reached for another helping of the lasagne and slid it onto his plate. "You have a secret pen pal who you like romantically but who is not romantic — _yet_ — and you're telling me about them now because…?"

Harry sighed. "Because he gave me some advice, and it sounds solid, but I want your thoughts on how I use it. Also, because he wants to meet, and—"

Laughter interrupted him from both his friends.

"What?"

Hermione grinned. "Of course he wants to meet you, Harry. We all told you we saw that coming, didn't we? At this point, you're both too invested _not_ to meet. But we'll come back to that. Let's start with the first bit. What was his advice?"

Harry pushed his mostly finished plate aside. "Well, we don't give specifics to one another in our letters, but I told him the basics of my troubles with Haven. I explained that I'm having trouble with competition, but that I can't seem to concentrate on that alone because of the stupid shite Malfoy said at the conference."

Ron grumbled around a mouthful of food, but Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "So, what was his advice?"

"He said he can tell that what's really important to me is helping people and I should focus on that and ways I can increase _that_ part of my business, as it's what makes me happiest."

Hermione beamed. "That's really wonderful advice, actually."

"Yeah. Blimey, this bloke really seems to get you, Harry."

Harry felt a warm flutter in his stomach at the confirmation of his own thoughts. FoodandWine69 really did seem to understand him, which was amazing given the circumstances.

Reaching into her bag, Hermione pulled out her favourite Muggle notebook and biro. "Okay, so what are you thinking? Let's brainstorm."

Ron got up and started clearing the table, making room for them to work, while Harry began to fill them in.

"Well, Malfoy's business competes with mine in the defensive items area, right? He's all about selling products. But what can't he sell?"

"Your name?" Ron suggested.

Hermione nodded, but Harry scowled. "That's not what I was going for."

"No, but he's right, Harry," Hermione admonished as she wrote something down. "We haven't pushed it in the past, but your name is highly marketable. By using it, you can help more people."

He bristled at that but ignored it for the time being. "What I was going for was the classes. You said my class enrollment hasn't gone down, right?"

She nodded.

"Well, what if I increased my class offerings? I could still do some custom-defence charms on the side, by request, but what if I turned the main focus of Haven into a defence school of sorts?"

His friends fell silent. Even Hermione's scribbling in her notebook had ceased.

"What?"

"That's bloody brilliant," Ron said quietly. "Your classes are ridiculously popular."

Hermione was still silent and Harry looked at her, surprised to find tears in her eyes.

"Er, Hermione?"

"I'm just so happy for you, Harry. I'm sorry, I just—"

Ron and Harry exchanged bemused glances as Hermione wiped her eyes.

"Bloody hormones," she muttered with a sniffle. "I'm just so glad you came to this idea on your own. You're always so happy when you're teaching, and you're so damned good at it, but I never wanted to say anything because you did such great work with the rest of it all and you felt like you owed it to Fred and—"

"Hermione, shut up." Ron nudged her and looked at Harry seriously. "Mate, Fred would be good with it, don't worry about that. And you know George and Percy want you to run the business however you want. What you need to decide is how much you're comfortable changing."

Harry heaved a little sigh. "I don't like change, but I got to thinking about my current classes. Right now, it's all classes on how to defend yourself, but what if I expanded those?"

"How so?" Hermione asked, the interest audible in her voice.

"Well, first of all, Malfoy's point was that people couldn't afford to have someone charm items for them. What if I taught advanced classes to people who were interested in how to charm their own items? I can set a skill-level prerequisite to be in the class, but I could make it so people can learn to do it themselves — for their _own_ friends and family."

"But wouldn't that be expensive, too, that kind of class?" Ron asked.

"Well, yeah, it would be, but it would be something they could add to their CV, right? Plus, I'd set up a scholarship fund or something, or work on other ways to make it financially available to people who couldn't afford it."

Hermione was jotting down notes now, scribbling furiously. Finally, she stopped and looked thoughtful. "You know, Hogwarts lets out in a couple of weeks. You could do something with that."

"Yeah…" Harry thought that through and considered the possibilities. "I suppose I could do some N.E.W.T preparation classes for DADA. Do you think there'd be interest?"

He could see Hermione's smile from where her hair was tucked behind her ear. "Well, you did score incredibly high on your DADA O.W.L. — and the N.E.W.T., too, once you finally took it. And you _are_ Harry Potter. I think if you made sure people realised you were the one teaching it, then yes, there'd be a good deal of interest in classes for both tests."

He rolled his eyes, then let out a sigh of resignation about the usage of his name. "Right, but I couldn't really teach underage students since they can't do magic over the summer."

Ron cleared his throat. "Actually, you just need a license from the Ministry and they'll lift the restrictions on the students while they're here. You'd be taking responsibility for them during that time, of course, but I don't see the Ministry giving you too much difficulty obtaining one."

Harry sat back, considering what they were proposing. "Okay, I'm not ready for a huge number of new classes, but I could definitely do one O.W.L. class a week, and one N.E.W.T. But if Hogwarts lets out in three weeks, don't you think it's a little late?"

"Not really," Hermione said, still writing. Harry could see her listing suggested texts next to each bullet point in her notes and stifled a laugh. "I'm sure the current DADA professor would happily suggest your class to any students needing the extra help, and probably a few who don't, as well."

Harry laughed out loud this time. "You can just call him Neville, Hermione."

She looked up and gave him a smirk. "Yes, well, good thing you have an in, huh?" She paused and looked back down at her notes. "Okay, so far I have a class on teaching the charms applications for the customized defence items—"

"I won't be ready for that one for a while," Harry interrupted. "That'll take some time to put together and plan."

"Right, and to market it, but we can start the planning. We also have Hogwarts test prep summer classes that you think you could probably have ready by the time school lets out. We just have to get a permit for any underage students, and talk to Neville about letting the students and parents know about the option."

"Yeah."

"Perfect. What about adding some Saturday classes for working adults?"

Harry leaned back and ran his hands through his hair, then forced himself to take a deep breath, calming his anxiety at all the changes they were suggesting. "Merlin, I'm exhausted just thinking about all this."

"Well, some of these will be during the day when you were doing charm work previously, right?" She stopped and patted his hand. "Harry, teaching is definitely exhausting, but you won't be as magically drained as you were before. And we'll talk to Ginny; she already helps you with the classes, and she seems to enjoy it."

"She does," Harry agreed. "But if she can't do this, I'll need to hire someone else. I can't teach every one of these classes alone, and Andromeda told me yesterday that I do still have a few orders coming in, so I need to be able to fill those, and that doesn't count the planning for the charmwork classes I mentioned."

"You have time, Harry. The only ones of these we need to move quickly on are the test prep classes. The others you can add slowly, and I'm sure ideas for others will come up, as well."

He stood up and started pacing, thinking about all the logistics. "Will you help me plan out the study guide I'll need to create for the written portion? I'll include the hours you spend on it with the ones I pay you for doing my books."

She looked like Christmas had come early. "Try to stop me."

Harry and Ron both laughed, and Ron wrapped his arm around his wife, laying his hand on her slightly bulging stomach. "Take it easy there, though. The Healer said you shouldn't be overdoing it, which is why you took on fewer hours at the Ministry, already."

"I'll hardly be overdoing it by simply doing some research and writing up plans, _Ronald_ ," she asserted with a sharp tone, which was effectively belied by her pleased smile.

"Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it." Harry walked over to the counter to pick up the lemon meringue pie he brought from the bakery, grabbing plates and clean forks and returning to the table.

Ron started cutting the pie and Hermione caught Harry's eye.

"Now," she began once the plates were loaded, "what's this about a meetup with your pen pal?"

Harry shrugged, trying to portray a nonchalance he most definitely didn't feel. "He wants to meet. I haven't said yes or no, yet. He asked two days ago and I've responded once since then but haven't answered that question yet. What do I do?"

"Well," Hermione began thoughtfully, "are you comfortable with the idea of meeting him?"

Harry bit his lip and could feel the smile trying to force its way onto his face.

Ron laughed. "I think you have your answer, 'Mione. But Harry, you clearly _like_ this guy. Do you think he likes you back?" Ron gestured at Harry with his fork full of pie, and Harry watched a glob of lemon nearly fall off before Ron noticed and put it in his mouth.

Harry considered, though really, it was all he'd thought about for two days. "Yeah, I think we really have a connection. And from what he's said, I think he feels the same."

Hermione nodded, then sat forward and narrowed her eyes. "You have to tell Luna first if you're going to do this."

He sighed. "Yeah, I really do. I think that's why I've been dithering on it. I don't want to hurt her, but I think it's time. It's past time, actually."

"So are you going to go ahead with it? Meet him, I mean?" Ron asked.

"I think I am. Merlin, I'm nervous."

"Just suggest drinks," Ron suggested. "That way if he's horribly ugly or insane, you can make a quick escape."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't care what he looks like, Ron. He…" He paused, trying to think of how to put it, then to himself, he muttered, "He speaks to my soul."

The silence across the table was tangible and he looked up. "What?"

Hermione's eyes teared up again and leaned her head onto Ron's shoulder. "Well, that sounds like a plan, then."

* * *

That night, Harry dreamt. He was sitting in a park having a picnic lunch with the literal man of his dreams. His hair and face were kind of nondescript, but when Harry woke, he had a sense of completeness that made him ache in longing.

He got up and went about his morning routine, then read the morning's letter. There was no more mention about meeting this time, just FoodandWine69 playing games with his young cousin and observations about a study he'd been reading on Muggle astrophysics. The man seemed to have an eclectic taste when it came to his studies, which is why Harry was leaning heavily on the _claw_ part of his Slytherclaw prediction.

He took out a sheet of parchment, preparing to write to his friend, then paused. _Right. Luna first._

_Luna,_

_I was wondering if you were open tomorrow night to go out to dinner. There's something I'd like to talk about, and I think a nice evening out might be in order. Can you meet me at 7:00 at Julian's? Let me know either way._

_Harry_

He reread the letter several times making sure it had the right tone. He didn't want to worry her, but he didn't want to lead her on to think it was going to be a great romantic evening. With that settled, he began his other letter.

_Dear FoodandWine69,_

_I spoke with my closest friends last evening about your advice, and I think I have a plan in place. I'm feeling optimistic about it for the first time in weeks, and even excited at some of the new opportunities I'll be opening up for myself. Thank you so much for the well thought out advice. It really helped more than you can possibly imagine._

_So it appears that instead of this being the pinnacle of my life, it's instead a big twisting wheel of change. I don't often embrace change, but I'm trying._

_You said you wanted to meet. I think that'd be nice. Maybe this Saturday evening? Do you know where Columbo's is in Wiz-Soho? Maybe we can meet for drinks, around eight? I'll be the one wearing a green shirt and a black leather jacket and drinking a pint._

_And if you change your mind, that's fine, I completely understand. Please don't feel pressured._

_Yours,_

_Wolfstar_

It took him almost an hour to get it right. But, finally, he gave up and just sealed it, then attached it to the impatient owl hooting at him.

"Sorry, Meg. Thank you and wish me luck."

The owl bobbed her head, then exited the window and Harry prepared for a busy day at work. Today was the first day of enacting his new plans, and he had a lot to do.

* * *

Just as he'd arranged, that evening Harry sat down for dinner with Luna. Which, at that point, mostly involved listening to her talk about her latest study on Nargle mating cycles and the subsequent article she was writing. He may not _Love_ Luna, but he did love her. He was pretty sure she'd be okay with them no longer being together as lovers, but he was still nervous because he truly treasured her friendship. To abate these nerves, he allowed her to dominate the conversation in the way they were both comfortably used to.

"So I told Rolf that if he wanted to observe the creatures' mating habits, he needed to be truly accepted into their environment first. And, Harry, the man caught a Portkey the next day to the Congo! On my advice! Can you believe it? He's the grandson of the great Newt Scamander, but he took my advice on the study of animals." She practically squealed as she ended her sentence, and Harry grinned.

"It's because you're bloody brilliant. I'm glad it's all going so well for you."

She smiled, brushing her long blonde hair behind her back, and he was reminded how beautiful she was. But he knew it was time. He had to tell her.

"Luna, I wanted to talk to you about something tonight."

"Yes, you said as much, Harry. So what is it you'd like to talk about?" Her voice was lofty and pleasant and happy, and Harry wanted to hug her but pushed down the urge. Maybe he'd try that in a few minutes if she didn't hex him first.

"Right. So, I feel like my life is full of changes right now, you know?"

"I do. I think the changes to your shop are going to be wonderful, though, Harry. I'm so proud of you. You're such a good teacher. I really feel like it's your calling."

"Thanks." Merlin, she needed to stop complimenting him if he was going to get through this. He ran his hand nervously through his hair. "Anyway, I've been taking stock of other elements of my life, and I think—"

"You don't love me."

Harry met her eyes, trying to gauge what she was thinking or feeling, but all he could see was her normal placid expression. "Er… no, I don't; not like a lover or a boyfriend should, anyway. I _do_ love you but as one of my dearest friends. And the sex is wonderful, don't get me wrong, but—"

She interrupted him with a laugh. "But you want to be with someone who you're _in love_ with, right?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Right."

She beamed, and he felt his mouth drop open at the unexpected reaction. "Me, too!"

"Really?"

"Really. I wasn't sure how to approach it, and I was avoiding it because you've got so much going on, but I feel exactly the same way."

She took his hand and held it as he laughed and took a drink of his pint. "Merlin, that's a relief. I really didn't want to hurt you."

"Nor I, you, Harry." She giggled and took a bite of her pudding. "So, do you have someone in mind?"

"Maybe," he said tentatively. "Do you?"

She looked down and blushed, and he thought about it.

"No, wait a minute. Is it Rolf?"

She grinned. "Yeah, he's really wonderful, Harry, and I think we've made a deep connection. And he likes people of any gender, I checked, which is really quite good because I'd hate to be out of the running simply because I don't have any dangly bits."

Harry laughed out loud, and then looked around sheepishly, hoping he hadn't disrupted anyone else's meal. "Well, I'm happy for you, but, er, isn't he still seeing Malfoy?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not sure if they're still together, or if they're just drifting apart. If they are together, they can't possibly be that serious, as I've spent a good deal of time with Rolf lately and he hardly mentions Draco."

"Well, that's good I suppose, for you and Rolf, anyway. I guess that kind of sucks for Malfoy, though, if they're still together and it's going that badly."

She smiled. "I think he'll be fine." Her eyes got big as though she'd just remembered something. "But what about you? What does 'maybe' mean?"

He sat back in his seat and gave a wistful smile. "It all started with these letters…"


	10. Chapter 10

Draco felt excited and nervous and foolish. So utterly, stupidly foolish. A grown man going on a blind date? It was the sort of thing that happened in dated Muggle movies, not in real life. He'd never felt so terrified of anything in his life — well Voldemort was pretty terrifying, but this was something else entirely.

He'd changed his outfit four times, fire-called Pansy twice, then stopped by Blaise's for moral support. Seriously, he was turning into the Puffiest Hufflepuff ever. In the end, with much encouragement from Blaise, he opted for the first outfit he'd tried on that evening — finely-tailored black trousers that hugged his arse perfectly, his favourite sapphire-blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and his low-heeled dragonhide boots, to give the ensemble a little bit of an edge. Finally, his favourite lightweight black Bodell wool coat topped the whole outfit off perfectly. He was well aware how perfectly likely it was that he would mess this entire meeting up by being his usual snarky self, but at least he could balance that out by being nice to look at.

"You need to calm down, old man."

"I'm calm!" Draco screeched as he fidgeted with the cuffs of his coat as they walked, drawing closer and closer to Columbo's.

"Like hell you are," Blaise countered, fighting to keep the amusement out of his voice. "You're practically vibrating with nerves."

"What if I mess it up, Blaise?"

"Look, you've been swapping letters with this guy for ages, so he already knows what you're like, snark and all. It's _just_ a drink. You just go in, say hi, order something strong, and if it sucks, you make your excuses and leave. Okay? No biggie. Easy in and easy out."

"I just wish I had a chance to say something to Rolf."

"You're definitely going to break up with him, then?" asked Blaise curiously.

"I'm not sure, really, but I hate the idea of meeting up with someone else behind his back, even if it turns out to be just a friendship. It doesn't sit right with me."

"Well, not much you can do, eh? There are not many owls who would be up for a death-defying scavenger hunt through the Congo just to deliver your letter," joked Blaise, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

"Yeah, that's true."

"What the hell's he doing over there anyway?"

"Apparently looking for signs of some new species of something or another. To be honest, I was only half-listening at the time," Draco mumbled as he slowed to a stop, peering at the sign above a busy looking pub across the street.

"Right, I think this is it."

Blaise reached out to pat him on the shoulder in farewell, and Draco suddenly realised he was actually going to have to do this. The panic that had been swirling in his stomach on and off all day resumed its whirlpool with a vengeance, and he grasped hold of Blaise's arm in desperation before he could leave.

"Wait, wait!" Draco practically yelled, anchoring Blaise firmly to his side. "I'm not ready yet."

"Not ready for what? It's a drink, man, not a wedding."

"Okay, you're right. Of course, you're right!" He took a moment to compose himself before asking Blaise about his outfit again.

"Yes, yes," sighed Blaise with the air of a man who had answered the same question multiple times in a short space of time. "You look good enough to make me look at your arse, and I'm so straight it's painful, okay? Now, go before I hex you!"

Draco watched Blaise begin to walk away and actually managed to let him get as far as four full steps before he lunged forwards and grabbed his arm again.

"What now? Seriously, Draco, this level of pathetic doesn't suit you at all!" admonished Blaise in exasperation.

"I know, I know. Just, will you go and peek through the window and make sure he's there? I don't want to go in first. The wait would drive me mad."

"All right, now you're just being a coward," scoffed Blaise.

"Not at all, I'm just keeping in with the Slytherin tendency for self-preservation."

Blaise sighed in resignation and went over to the window. "You said he would be wearing a green top and a leather jacket and be drinking a pint? Okay, well, he's there."

"Really?"

"Yes, really! Merlin! You need to take a calming draught or something!"

"What does he look like? Is he good looking?"

"No idea, he's facing the other way talking to the barmaid."

Draco stood in agony waiting for Blaise to confirm the man's appearance. Not that it mattered really. The man could be Jabba the Hutt and he wouldn't care. This went beyond looks. However, there was no denying they helped.

"Fuck me! Ah…Draco?" said Blaise, his voice suddenly void of all amusement, filling Draco with dread.'

"What?" Draco asked fearfully.

"I, em…I don't know how to tell you this…you know, I'm just going to say it! Quick and painless, like a plaster."

"Say what?" Draco yelled at his friend in frustration. "Well?"

"It's Potter."

"What's Potter?"

"Your date. The guy you've been writing to. It's Harry Potter."

All colour in Draco's face drained away as he slowly stepped towards his friend and looked through the window. Sure enough, sitting at a central table sipping a pint, looking devastatingly sexy in his leather jacket, was none other than Harry Bloody Potter.

"You okay, old man?" Blaise asked, concern evident in his voice.

"I'm fine," came Draco's shocked reply. "Whatever. It was just a drink, anyway."

"So, what're you going to do?"

"Nothing. I'm going to go home and pour myself a ridiculously large glass of wine and drink myself into a disgusting torpor."

"You're seriously going to let him sit there all night waiting for you?" demanded Blaise indignantly. "That's cold, man."

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Nothing on Merlin's green earth could persuade me into that bloody pub, Blaise. Goodnight."

And, ignoring the pitying look Blaise threw his way, Draco turned and walked away.

* * *

Draco walked the same circuit around the block for at least twenty minutes trying to decide what to do. He'd fully intended to go home and get pissed, but something inside his heart just wouldn't let him. Wolfstar — _Harry_ — made him feel unlike anyone else ever had. Safe, happy, excited — cherished, even. To just let that go felt wrong. Just _so_ bloody wrong. It was possible, he supposed, that if he managed to have a decent conversation with him, then they might be able to get past their history and start over. More likely, Harry would hex him on sight, but he knew he had to try. With that in mind, he walked himself back to the pub and went inside, ducking for cover behind a group of university students.

In order to prepare himself, Draco snuck over to the bar and ordered a large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. He took a moment to remove his coat, draping it over his arm, then carried his drink over to where Harry was sitting hunched over his pint.

"Good evening, Potter. Fancy meeting you here."

At the greeting, Harry's head snapped up, his hope-filled eyes narrowing when he realised it was Draco standing there and not his expected date.

"Get lost, Malfoy."

Draco placed his drink onto the table and draped his coat over the back of the chair closest to him.

"I'm actually glad to see you. I was wanting to apologise — you know, for the bank."

Draco stood nervously as he waited for Harry to say something, anything. However, it seemed the _Chosen One_ was more interested in his pint than Draco's apology.

"Might I sit with you for a while? I'd really like to talk to you."

"No, I'm expecting someone. Although, even if I wasn't, I would rather share the table with a Dementor than with you."

Draco ignored Harry's obvious dismissal and situated himself comfortably onto the chair, delighting in a long sip of his wine. For common bar fare, it wasn't too bad.

"Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" demanded Harry angrily. "Since when was ' _get lost'_ an invitation to get comfy?"

"Who're you waiting on?" asked Draco, as he stretched back on his chair and casually crossed his legs. He had resolved to feign deafness any time Harry tried to ask him to leave.

"No one you know."

"Is that so?" drawled Draco, causing Harry to huff impatiently at his unwanted guest.

"Just get lost, Malfoy."

"What is that you're drinking?" asked Draco, surprised to find himself actually interested in the answer.

"It's a pint of bitter and, as I've made perfectly clear a couple of times now, you're not welcome to sit with me. So, for the last time, piss _off_!"

"Bitter what?" Draco asked, confused.

"Are you taking the mickey?" demanded Harry, looking put out. "Bitter lager, of course."

"Sorry, not much of a pint drinker. I tend to stick to wine and sometimes firewhisky."

"Fair enough," replied Harry to his glass.

They sat in silence for several long moments, each waiting the other out.

"Feel free to leave at any moment, Malfoy," Harry informed, his face drawn into a tight scowl and his voice harsh.

"Look, I was serious when I said I was an arse the other day," said Draco, his voice heavy and earnest. _Merlin, Harry wasn't making this easy!_ "I was having a shit day, and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have."

"Fine. You're forgiven. Now shove off."

"How about we have a drink together until whoever you're waiting for shows up? Who're you meeting anyway?"

"A friend."

"A romantic friend?" prompted Draco, unable to help himself.

"What the hell does that have to do with you?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Nothing at all. I'm just wondering whether Luna will show up and force me to cleanse my aura or something."

Draco felt a thrill zing through him at the sight of the corner of Harry's mouth tugging reluctantly, as if he was fighting a smile.

"I'm not seeing Luna anymore. We're both interested in other people, so we called it quits. Happy now? Get whatever gloating nonsense your obviously bursting with out of your system and please, for the love of Godric, fuck _off_."

Draco decided to wait a few seconds before trying again. Harry had really sounded pissed at the end of that last sentence.

"Harry."

" _Potter."_

" _Harry."_

"Stop calling me Harry!"

"It's your name."

"Not to you."

Really, how was he supposed to build some kind of relationship with Harry if he wasn't even allowed to use his actual name? _Salazar, give me strength_.

Draco sighed and tried again.

"Look, I get we have plenty of bad blood between us, but don't you think it's time to let it go? I mean, we're actually quite similar if you think about it?"

"Similar? Oh, fuck right off. I'm no more like you than Voldemort was a Hufflepuff."

"Come on. I think if you got to know me, you would see —"

"If I got to know you, all I would see is a scared, pathetic little bully hiding behind bargain bin defence items."

"Okay, now you have that out of your system, do you think we could just take a step back?"

"Sure. Step back. Tell you what? Why don't I take a step back all the way over to another table?"

With that, Harry pushed his chair back, lifted his pint, and walked over to an empty table near the back corner of the room.

Draco sat for a minute and took a fortifying sip of his wine before deciding that he would try one last time to make some kind of connection with Harry.

Carefully, he got up and carried his wine over to where Harry was sitting and staring avidly at the door.

"Hi, again."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin. What. Do. You. _Want_? Do you get some kind of kick out of harassing me? Making me feel like shite?"

"I don't want any of that."

"Is that right, Malfoy? Look, I know you seem to be trying to delude everyone into believing you've changed. _Draco Malfoy, what a nice guy he is!_ Well, you're just as well to drop the act, because I'm never ever going to buy it. Maybe there was one tiny moment where you appeared normal at the conference dinner, but that was all just an act, too."

"It wasn't —"

"It serves me right, really. I tried to see you as a person, but I won't make that mistake again."

"Harry —"

"Whenever I look at you, Malfoy, I will always see a dodgy salesman with a slimy attitude and a Dark Mark for a fucking calling card."

Draco felt the colour drain from his face at those words. Is that what Harry, no, _Potter_ thought of him? Is that what everyone thought of him?

Slowly, Draco placed his still nearly full glass of wine onto the table and placed a few Galleons next to it as a tip. He looked Potter in the eye, and noticed that he looked upset and shocked, almost in mirror image to what was going on behind Draco's Malfoy mask.

"On second thought," he said in a surprisingly steady voice, "I must be going after all."

"Malfoy—"

"Good night."

With as much dignity as he could muster, Draco lifted his coat from the back of the chair and swept out of the pub.

* * *

The sight of the tall stack of paperwork waiting for him on his desk made Draco want to drown himself in his coffee. His head was killing him and he wasn't sure if it was last night's drinking that was making him feel sick or the interaction with Potter. _Not Harry_ , he affirmed to himself, _never Harry, just Potter._ Draco sat heavily in his desk chair and tried to wonder what in Salazar's name he was supposed to do now.


	11. Chapter 11

Harry walked home from the pub late that evening feeling absolutely terrible. He'd had such high expectations for the evening, and for it to have taken such a downward turn made him question his sanity. He just— what? He didn't even know.

Walking into his flat, he headed into his office and checked his letterbox, hoping against hope that FoodandWine69 had written a letter of apology, excusing himself for the evening, instead of just completely standing him up. But there was no letter, nothing to distract Harry from the other simple fact of the evening. He was a terrible person.

Who says shit like that anyway? No matter that it was Draco Malfoy who never passed up an opportunity to taunt him about his dead parents, or who attacked his shop's credibility. Harry was better than that, and he went and brought up perhaps one of the darkest moments of the other man's life and used it to hurt him. Yet again.

And he had. Hurt him, that was. He could see it in the man's eyes — the pain, and sadness, and regret. He walked into his bedroom and threw himself across the bed, face down, then screamed into the mattress.

He deserved to be stood up. What if his friend had been nearby listening, and heard Harry at one of his worst moments? Harry wouldn't want to date someone who was vicious; why would FoodandWine69 be any different? He deserved better than Harry.

Deciding to write his letter before he went to bed, Harry went to his desk and took out a quill, considering his words carefully. He wanted to portray his disappointment, but not make the man feel bad. Harry had said he'd understand if there was a change of heart, so understanding he would be.

_Dear FoodandWine69,_

_Regret is a funny thing. It can have so many nuances, and I seem to be feeling them all tonight._

_First off, I regret having missed you at our meeting. Maybe you were unable to get away, or maybe you just changed your mind. Either way, I won't ask for an explanation because you don't owe me one. I hope we can still maintain our letters even if you don't want to meet because I value your opinion and advice and friendship greatly._

_So yes, regret. I also regret my behaviour tonight in your absence. As I waited, an old acquaintance of mine appeared and insisted on sitting with me. I was worried you'd see me with someone else, so I tried to get him to just leave me alone. Honestly, I would have tried anyway, as he and I have a history of being more adversaries than simple acquaintances, and I admit that he brings out the worst in my behaviour._

_And that's what happened tonight. Oh, Merlin, I'm so glad you weren't there to see me at my worst. I was angry and sullen, and when he made overtures of friendship, I cut him with my words. I really hurt him, I could tell, and as he left, I sat completely horrified by my what I'd done. I tend to act without thinking sometimes, and I'm too damned old to behave this way anymore. I'm old enough to understand the power of words, and I'm better than that._

_I'm so fucking embarrassed, and sorry. You said in an earlier letter that you occasionally do something similar, lashing out, then feeling like shite after. Perhaps you have advice on how to stop me from dwelling on it?_

_I'll post this in the morning, and hope to still receive one of your letters tomorrow. Please?_

_Wolfstar_

That night, Harry did not sleep well.

* * *

"He didn't show up?"

Harry turned his back to Ginny's incredulous voice and began folding the stack of towels the students used during class. "He was unavoidably detained, I'm sure."

"Ha. He stood you up. Did you write him a letter this morning?"

Harry nodded. "I did. I simply explained that I regretted missing him, and mentioned the other little thing that happened last night."

"And what's that, dear?" Andromeda asked as she drank her tea.

"Draco Malfoy showed up."

Hermione snorted. "Figures. You get a night out to meet your secret pen pal and in walks Malfoy." She paused, arching her back and rubbing her stomach, then froze. "Wait, you don't think Malfoy might be your penpal, do you?"

Harry scoffed as Ginny added a wicked cackle.

"Now, Harry, Draco is not nearly as bad as you make him out to be, dear. I think you'd find you have quite a bit in common if you spoke with him for a bit," Andromeda said, simply raising her eyebrow to get her point across.

"Sorry, Andi, I know he's your nephew and all, but I don't think that's something that's ever going to happen. He sat with me for less than twenty minutes last night and we both regretted the evening more than you can possibly imagine."

Ginny waved Harry away and took the towels back to the practice room, then returned and pushed him into a chair. "So spill it. Why do you think Loverboy didn't show up?"

Harry shrugged. "I think he changed his mind."

"Maybe," drawled Hermione thoughtfully. "Or maybe he was hit with a Confundus Charm and spent the evening wandering Diagon Alley, unsure where he was supposed to be."

"Right," Ginny agreed eagerly. "And then he stumbled into Knockturn Alley and was accosted. He could be in St Mungo's right now, with no one to claim him!"

They all laughed, and Harry felt his spirits lifting at his friends' levity.

"No, I know," Ginny decided, trying again. "He's actually someone really famous, like a Quidditch player or something, and he was prevented from showing up by a mob of desperate and horny fans."

Andromeda's laugh rang above the others at this one, and Harry blushed.

"Look, he probably just changed his mind. It's fine. _I'm_ fine, I just hope he didn't see me and run away. Maybe he realised it was Harry Potter and it was just too much for him. I mean, there's a lot of baggage that comes along with being with me."

Hermione reached across the table and took his hand. "There's a lot of _good_ that comes with it, too, Harry. If he couldn't handle it, it'd be _his_ problem, not yours."

He gave her hand a little squeeze. "Thanks, 'Mione."

* * *

"Harry?" Ron's voice came from the fireplace.

Harry got up from the sofa across the room and moved closer. "Hey, Ron. What's up?"

"Can I come through?"

"Sure."

Harry stepped back from the fireplace as the flames turned green, and his best friend entered his flat.

"Thanks, mate. Hermione is acting batshit crazy tonight, and I had to escape."

Harry laughed uneasily. "Godric, don't let her hear you say that."

"Nah," Ron said as he walked to Harry's refrigerator and withdrew a beer. "She admitted it herself and told me to get the hell out. The pregnancy hormones are in full force. I supplied her fix of grapefruit juice and provolone cheese, then ran." He leaned back against the counter and looked at Harry, the assessment clear in his look. "You look like shit, mate. Are you okay?"

Harry shrugged and threw himself back onto the sofa. "I'll be fine."

Ron seated himself on the other end of the sofa and raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry gave a sharp laugh. "I just don't get it. Things were going so well. We've been writing almost every single day since October, Ron, and then poof, it's all gone, and I have no idea why." He gave a little sigh and reached up, scratching his beard.

Ron watched him closely, waiting to see if Harry would continue. When it was clear there was nothing else coming, he appeared to consider. "Well, it seems to me you have a couple of choices here, mate."

Harry looked over in surprise. "Yeah?"

Ron gave him a small smile. "Yeah. Look, you always have a choice. Option one is that you let him go, accepting that you may never know what happened. You move on, see if there's someone else you want to date, then you live the best life you can and just remember the last year fondly."

Harry grunted at that. "That sounds unappealing."

"Yes," Ron said with a laugh, "but it's a choice. Now, option two is a little more proactive. It's all the same as option one, but you go out and try to get shagged this weekend to get you out of your funk."

Harry scowled and threw a sofa pillow at his friend's head.

Ron chuckled and caught the pillow easily. "Keeper, remember? Anyway, if you do decide on option two, Hermione has suggested I go out and be your wingman for the night."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Great! Okay, so option three," Ron continued in a light voice. "Option three is the most difficult. Are you ready?"

Harry gave Ron a levelled stare, then nodded. "All right, go on."

"Fight for him, you daft moron. What the hell is wrong with you? He misses a couple of days of letters and chickens out on meeting you, and suddenly you're ready to let him get away? A few weeks ago, you were ready to run away with the man, but you give up this easily? Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"

Harry sat up with a scowl. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're better than this. Get up off your arse, write him some more letters that remind him why he wanted to meet you in the first place, and for Merlin's sake, trim your scraggly beard so when you do meet him, he can tell what the hell you look like under there. _Honestly_."

Harry started to laugh. "You sound like Hermione."

"Yeah, well, it was bound to happen. Now, grab me another drink and let's watch some telly. What were you watching when I came through?"

Harry got up to get them each another bottle. "Return of the Jedi."

Ron let out an exasperated sigh. "What is it with you and those damned Ewoks, mate?"

"They're cute! Now shut up and watch."

* * *

_Dear Friend,_

_Friendship is a funny thing. It can spark from the most random of incidents, like sharing a train car, or working together towards a common goal, or being paired up by a Mind Healer to be a pen pal. One of my oldest friends was here with me tonight._

_I don't know that I've ever told you about my best friends. They've been with me since the beginning, and they have the talent to knock me out of a funk, or to tell me when I'm being a prat. They're my family._

_So tonight, one came over and did just that. I was unsure what my next move should be in regards to your and our friendship, and I've decided that just like any friendship, I'm not going to let a simple bump deter me from maintaining it. You're important to me. Our friendship is important to me. So I thought I'd write and inform you that you're stuck with me._

_I hope that whatever you're dealing with, whatever is preventing you from responding, it's resolved soon. In the meantime, I'll be here._

_Wolfstar x_

* * *

It'd been a week, and there was still no response from FoodandWine69. Harry decided to keep writing and hoped the man would eventually respond, or at least tell him to piss off. The longer he went without a response, though, the more Harry began to worry.

He maintained the frequency of his own letters, however, and his stomach twisted every time he opened his letterbox to still find it empty. His last letter, sent that morning, was beginning to sound desperate, he was afraid, but he just needed some closure one way or another.

Thankfully, preparation for his summer classes was coming along nicely and was a welcome distraction. They'd contacted Neville, who was completing his fourth year teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. After several years as an Auror, Neville had taken to teaching almost as quickly as he'd taken to Herbology as a boy. Harry secretly wondered if Neville was just biding his time with DADA classes until Professor Sprout finally retired, but, either way, he was great at it.

Harry sat now at the consultation table with Hermione and Ginny, working through the final logistics of the classes. Hogwarts was now out for the summer, and his classes were scheduled to begin the following week.

"Okay, the N.E.W.T. class has seven students," Hermione was saying, looking down at her list. "We had one more addition today. You wanted to cap it at eight, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I want it to be more like a workshop for students that age, and any more than that will be too many."

"I agree, so we have room for one more if a request comes in." She flipped through her notes. For the O.W.L. students, you were smart to add that second class. Both are full with ten students each, and we're starting to build a waiting list."

Harry looked up in surprise. "Seriously? That many?"

"Yes, that many. Harry, these are fifteen-year-old kids nervous about their first round of big tests and getting the opportunity to study with The Harry Potter. Did you really expect differently?"

Ginny laughed. "Of course he did. It's Harry." She leaned over and scruffed his hair like he was a small child.

"Stop it, you crazy wench." He pushed her away, laughing.

She grinned. "So four additional classes a week. Two O.W.L. classes once a week, and one N.E.W.T. class twice a week, right? Are you sure you only need my help with the O.W.L. ones?"

Harry considered. "For now, yeah. I might need you for demonstrations periodically, but until I get a good feel for their current levels, I can't say. Hermione, did the parents sign the forms so Neville could release their information for me?"

"Most did, yes, but there's still a few days for the others to agree. Speaking of forms, you need to sign this to get the Floo hooked up here so the students can come and go more easily."

Hermione pushed a paper in front of him, fully filled out and waiting on his signature, and he gave her a grateful smile. "Perfect. Thanks, 'Mione. What would I do without you?"

"Merlin knows we wouldn't want to find out," she laughed.

He grinned, then grew more serious. "So how many scholarship requests did we get?"

"Seven total between the three classes. It's really lovely that you set that up, Harry. Some of the parents insisted on paying for what they could, but at least one of the older students is on his own already. So we're covering his completely, as well as for a couple of the students whose parents couldn't afford it. Neville and Minerva reached out for us to any of the parents they thought might have a problem with the finances of it, and of course, we included it in the informational packet we gave Neville to send home."

"The boy on his own," Harry considered. "Does he need anything else, do we know? If there's anything—"

"I know. I think you'll get a better idea of that when you meet him next week, and if he needs something, we'll do what we can, okay?"

Mollified, Harry sat back, considering. "So with only these four additional classes, where does that leave us?"

Hermione flipped her book back open and ran her finger down the page. "You still have a few orders coming in, but probably only a quarter of what you had before. However, the classes are an ongoing source, so right now, after the scholarship funds are applied, you're coming in at a decreased profit, but still a profit." She finished with a smile and shut her book.

"Wonderful." He looked around his shop and sighed. "Thanks, guys, for everything. I really appreciate it, but there's also something else I wanted to talk to you about."

He took a deep breath, and Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Just spit it out, Harry."

"Fine. Andromeda has talked to me, and Friday will be her last day working here."

Ginny sucked in a breath of surprise, but Hermione only looked thoughtful.

"But why, Harry?" Ginny got up and started pacing like she did when she was irritated. "It has to do with Malfoy, doesn't it."

Harry shrugged. "Kind of, yeah. Mostly though, it's that her job was managing the orders, appraising the merchandise needing charmwork applied to make sure the quality was good and that it was capable of being charmed. She had a very specific service she was performing for me, and she didn't feel I needed her anymore. She's still going to consult for me when I need her to, but she's no longer going to be on the staff."

He'd had several days to get used to the idea, and as much as he hated to admit it, it made sense. Andi wanted to be useful, and she didn't feel she was still was, given Haven's change of focus.

"What's she going to do now?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Well, Malfoy has offered her a position managing the charmed jewelry and heirloom department. She asked me my opinion, and I made sure she knew I'd not be upset." He gave a quiet sigh. "I'll miss her, but she doesn't like to be idle, and that was becoming a problem for her here."

The others nodded.

"Well," Ginny started, "we'll just have to fix her a bloody amazing last-day party on Friday, right?"

"Right," Harry said with a laugh. "So, let's get to it. Are you ready to help me prepare another practice room?"


	12. Chapter 12

"Excuse me, sir, do you work here?" simpered a posh voice from behind Draco. _Oh great,_ he groused to himself, _another bloody customer too stupid to shop on their own._

"What makes you think I work here? Do I look impoverished or something?" He knew his voice was loud and harsh, but he found it so difficult to care. Honestly, what an assumption. He didn't _need_ to work. He had plenty of money. Stupid woman.

"Forgive me, I just assumed—"

"Well you shouldn't assume then, should you?" Draco said with a glare, resolutely ignoring the stares of the other shoppers. "So you wanted me to help you with something?"

"So…you _do_ work here?" the woman enquired dubiously, shying away from Draco's obvious irritation.

"Obviously." The word fell from Draco's furious lips dripping with disdain. "Do you think I hang around here for the extreme pleasure of it?"

"I…erm…perhaps I can manage on my own. Thank you." The woman started to back away, obviously flustered by the exchange. _How rude! Why ask for help if you don't actually want it when it's offered? Bloody prejudiced old bat!_

"Is that so?" barked Draco dangerously. "Am I not good enough to help you, or something? Do you think you're better than—"

"Hey, old man, I need a quick word with you in the back shop." Suddenly, Draco found himself being manhandled towards the office by none other than Blaise. He tried to wriggle free from his strong grasp, but Blaise held firm and gave him a good solid tug towards the office door. " _Now_ , Draco. Come on."

As Draco was dragged along, he could hear Pansy trying to make nice with the woman, offering her both assistance and discounts. _Get a grip_ , he thought maliciously, _next she'll be offering the woman a spare bloody kidney._

A moment later, Blaise had wrestled Draco into his desk chair and closed the door behind them.

"Right. I don't know what's been eating at you lately, but you need to get a grip. It was bad enough when it was just me and Pans you were treating like shite, at least we're used to your bloody moods, but now you're trying to sabotage your bloody business. Are you _mad_?"

"Get lost, Blaise. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're right, I don't. Because you haven't bothered to tell me or Pansy anything about it." Blaise took a steadying breath and approached Draco, ignoring the fury radiating from his friend. "Something is obviously going on with you and for some reason, you won't talk to us. How the hell do you expect us to help you?"

"I don't need your fucking help, okay?" Draco's face was pink with rage, which only served to highlight the dark grey bags under his eyes. Blaise crouched down next to Draco and looked him in the eye.

"Is that what you think?" he asked softly. "Because I think you _do_ need us. Honestly, if you keep on the way you are now, you're going to have no friends and no business. Is that what you want?"

Suddenly, all the aggression and self-hatred that had been boiling within Draco for the last week seemed to drain out of him. He took a deep breath and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to force himself into some semblance of calm. "Merlin, Blaise. I'm sorry. I just…I don't know what to do."

Blaise pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped it across Draco's face. _Salazar, when the fuck did I start crying?_

"I don't cry," Draco informed Blaise, rather redundantly.

"Maybe you should, Mr Big Bossman." Blaise smiled. "Then maybe you wouldn't end up in this mess. Come on, let's go for a coffee and you can tell me what's caused the emotional crisis. Although, I think maybe you should stick to decaf," he teased as they both stood up and went in search of a quiet cafe.

* * *

Draco wrapped his fingers around his chamomile tea and smiled sheepishly at Blaise. He knew he had been acting like an absolute brute the last week and, honestly, he was amazed Blaise was still his friend at this point. He suspected that once he was feeling better he would need to ply both him and Pansy with conciliatory gifts.

"So," began Blaise gently, "what's been going on, then?"

"I just… I miss Wolfstar."

"You miss Potter?"

"No!" Draco blew out a sharp breath before resuming his tentative control of himself and continuing in a softer tone. "No, I don't miss _Potter_ ; I miss _Wolfstar_. I miss my friend who I wrote nonsense to and who got me. Like really got me. He _saw_ me and not my Mark or my name or my bank balance. Merlin, what I wouldn't give to go back in time, Blaise."

"Do you want my opinion?"

"Yes, please," implored Draco earnestly.

"Are you sure? Because you likely won't appreciate it," warned Blaise.

"Honestly, I don't care if I don't like it. Any opinion by this point is good."

"Yes, you miss Wolfstar, but you also miss Potter. Because they're one and the same person. And I know you think Potter's hot. You've commented on his arse enough times for that to be a certainty. I think the problem is you can't get over the past, or you think he won't be able to get over the past." Blaise paused a second to sip his coffee before continuing. "But, whatever the problem is, you need to get a grip and decide what it is you actually want. Because, in all honesty, I've never seen you more alive than I have when you've been corresponding with Potter. And that's the truth."

"So what do you think I should do?"

"I think you should take a personal day, go home, and decide what the fuck it is you want. Once you do that, you can come up with a way to make it happen. Because, truly, if I need to suffer through another week like this one, I'll end up quitting. And I'm sure Pans won't be too far behind me."

"Okay, you're right. Of course, you're right," conceded Draco. Circe, he needed to get his head on straight. He placed his tea on the table and made to leave, pausing to place a thankful hand on Blaise's shoulder.

"Floo me if you need me, okay?" asked Blaise, anxious for his friend.

"I promise. Thanks, Blaise." Draco gave Blaise one last sincere smile and headed for home. He had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

Draco rubbed his tired eyes and took a long sip from his glass of whisky. This was one of those times where wine just wouldn't cut the mustard. He'd been sitting in front of his fireplace reading Wolfstar's — _Harry's_ — letters over and over again, trying to decide what to do. He knew what he _wanted_ to do, but what he would actually do? That was another story.

He was just about to re-read the letters for what left like the twentieth time when Petris swooped through the window and landed gracefully on the coffee table, proudly holding his leg aloft for Draco to untie the letter.

"What've you got there?" asked Draco, moving to untie the parchment and give the owl a grateful stroke across his soft feathers. "Thank you, you know where the treats are." He smiled fondly as Petris cocked his head and hooted, as if to say "obviously", before flying off to his perch for a drink of water.

Draco unrolled the parchment and froze at the familiar scrawl. Harry had sent him another letter. _Salazar._ Hopefully, the letter wasn't telling him to drop dead. Warily, he settled himself into a more comfortable position and began to read.

_Dear FoodandWine69,_

_My business is preparing itself for a major shift next week, and I'm nervous. It's the first step of my putting your advice to good use. You suggested I concentrate my energy on the part of my business where I feel I help people most, and that's what I'll be doing. I decided to sidestep the competition, which was the outside challenge I was encountering. I think it's going to be a successful move, but more importantly, I'm excited to begin._

_I'm unsure whether to stop writing, or to keep writing in hope that you eventually respond. If you no longer wish to continue our friendship, I hope you'll be kind enough to let me know. For now, I'm left to simply wonder what's become of you, and to hope that you're well._

_Missing your friendship,_

_Wolfstar_

_Great,_ he thought bitterly, _now I feel lower than a Hippogriff-Dung Beetle._ Harry had poured his heart and soul out to him, and he'd basically trampled all over it. He needed to fix it, and fast. He clambered to his feet and strode swiftly over to his desk for a quill and some parchment. If he was lucky, maybe he would be given another chance.

_My Dearest Wolfstar,_

_I am so sorry that I haven't been present for you. I simply have no excuse which could possibly make my behaviour acceptable. And, minus specifics, it's difficult to give an explanation that doesn't sound ridiculous. I really wanted to meet you and to have an amazing time talking with you face-to-face. All I can say is that I'm truly sorry from the bottom of my heart for the situation you found yourself in._

_I know you feel that you acted poorly when I didn't show up, but I have a feeling that anything you said or did would have been the result of provocation. I may not know any specifics about you, but I do know hundreds of little nothings which make up the sum of you more than any specifics ever could. I feel that I can say, with some authority, that you're kind and thoughtful and would never purposefully hurt anyone._

_I'm honestly so happy for you that you've managed to find your way forward, both with your inner demons and with your business. I'm glad you're excited and I'm sure it will be a success._

_Please, I beg you, don't stop writing to me. I was an idiot not to reply before now, and I honestly wouldn't blame you if you decided that this letter was too little, too late. I value you as a close and dear friend, and those are few and far between these days._

_Forgive me,_

_FoodandWine69_

He quickly rolled up the letter and, after promising some extra special treats, managed to coax Petris to deliver it right away.

* * *

The fire in the hearth crackled soothingly, filling the room with a pleasant glow. Draco was sitting in his favourite chair, Ragu purring in his sleep on his lap. It had been a few hours since he sent the letter to Harry, but already he felt much better. He knew, if not by some divine miracle, that he could salvage this. Harry completed him somehow, and he would be damned if he was going to let that sense of belonging go without a fight.

He was just beginning to feel his eyes droop when the heat of the fire lessened considerably and flared green, before Rolf stepped out of the hearth a second later, covered in what Draco hoped was mud and sporting a grin that would put the Cheshire cat to shame.

"Holy Hippogriffs! What on Earth happened to you?" Draco had leapt up in surprise at the sudden arrival, effectively dislodging a disgruntled Ragu in the process.

"Draco! You won't believe it! They accepted me, just like Luna said they would, and it was the most amazing thing!" Rolf had wrapped his arms around Draco's waist in his excitement and spun him around the room in a sort of drunken waltz. "I got pictures, Draco! Pictures!"

Draco couldn't help but giggle, feeding off of his boyfriend's infectious happiness, and carefully managed to extricate himself from the bear hug he had fallen victim to.

"That's great! What was it you got pictures of?"

"The Nargles, of course!" Rolf was still bursting with excitement, hopping from one foot to the other.

"Nargles? I thought you were going to discover a new species or something," replied Draco in confusion. "I'm sure you said something to that effect…"

"I need to show Luna! Oh, but first—"

"First, you need to take off those boots before I kill you for dragging half the jungle back here with you. Then you need to go and have a shower. Are you hungry? I can order some food."

"A shower! Perfect!" exclaimed Rolf as he flounced off towards the bathroom, more excited about the possibility of a shower than Draco had ever seen. "I'd love some Chinese, please."

_Merlin_ , thought Draco as he went to place the Floo order to their local Chinese, _somewhere in the world, there's a herd of people with butterfly nets looking for that man!_

* * *

An hour later, Draco found himself sitting on the couch with a blessedly full stomach listening to Rolf's adventure.

"And I was worried at first, cause they hadn't shown themselves, but Luna said it takes patience before they do. I'm just glad I listened to her and didn't give up!" Rolf rambled, pausing only to take a small sip of his tea. "Sure enough, after a day or two, I started losing things — quills, a couple of galleons, my binoculars — and then I knew they were nearby. You know, Luna said that they don't just take anyone's stuff, as they're repelled by certain auras!" He paused to shovel a forkful of chow mein into his mouth and chewed messily, before continuing on. "That had me particularly worried, because what if my aura was all wrong? But luckily she told me how to keep clear of Wrackspurts!"

Draco nodded along, although he barely had any idea what Rolf was on about, having tuned him out after about five minutes of Nargle talk. _Merry Mother of Morgana, the man could talk. How in Salazar's name had he put up with this verbal diarrhoea all this time?_ He'd only been away for two weeks, but somehow his Rolf-o-meter had already reached its limit. Every ridiculous little tidbit made his teeth grind. All he could think about was how Harry had never once told him a pile of redundant information about nonexistent creatures.

"Draco? Are you listening?" Rolf demanded, shaking Draco's arm none too gently.

"Sorry, got lost in thought." He moved his arm out of Rolf's grasp and tried to hoist an interested smile onto his face. "What were you saying?"

"What's the point in telling you?" Rolf's handsome face was crinkled in temper, a dangerous red flush staining his cheeks. "I've not seen you for practically two weeks, and you can't even listen to me tell you about it! You know, there are people who would kill to have this kind of information about remote creatures and you — you just don't get it, do you?"

"Oh for the love of—" Draco muttered with a huff of frustration. "I'm sorry I'm not hanging on your every word, but you know I'm not into this stuff."

"Stuff! It's not _stuff_ , it's significant work! It's the advancement of Magizoology! It's—"

"It's a pile of Hoccum! Nargles do _not_ exist. You spent two weeks sitting in the jungle observing _nothing_ and now you expect _me_ to sit all bloody night listening to nonsense about lost binoculars and Wrackspurts! Fucking _Wrackspurts!"_

They were both on their feet now, a hairsbreadth from full-blown shouting at each other. Suddenly, as quickly as the anger had surfaced, Draco felt it recede, leaving behind an overwhelming feeling of uneasiness and remorse.

"Merlin, I'm sorry Rolf. I didn't mean that. I might not agree with everything you do, but if it's important to you, then it should be important to me."

At his words, Draco saw the tension leave Rolf's shoulders and a sheepish smile made its way onto his face.

"I'm sorry too. I know you've been stressed lately, and I just bounded in and bombarded you. I know I can get carried away."

"I've not been stressed Rolf, not really. I've just not been present, and neither have you."

They both looked at each other for a long moment, both fully aware of what was happening. Draco sat back on the couch and gestured for Rolf to do the same, waiting until the other man was comfortably settled before voicing what was on his mind.

"Rolf? You like Luna, don't you?" Rolf looked like he was going to deny it, but Draco stopped him. "Oh come on, you've been home for little over an hour and you've mentioned her at least a dozen times!"

Rolf's shoulders sagged and he averted his eyes. "I didn't plan it, but she's just amazing and warm and —"

"And she shares your weird creature obsession,'' interrupted Draco, smiling softly. "It's ok. You've found your Princess Leia to your Han Solo. Don't worry, I haven't exactly been sitting here pining over pictures of us while you were away."

"You like someone else too?"

Draco nodded in affirmation, before raising a hand to halt the next question in its tracks. "Yes, I like someone else, but they don't like me. At least, I don't think they do. I'd rather not say who it is, as it could be rather awkward if they got wind of it.

"Of course; I understand."

The silence stretched for a moment or two before Rolf picked the place of fortune cookies off the coffee table and offered one to Draco, who took it smiling.

"Are you going to ask Luna out, then? She's single now, you know," enquired Draco, as he broke open the cookie.

"I think I need to," replied Rolf, focused on opening his own cookie. "How often do you find the one person who fills your heart with joy?"

Rolf looked up at Draco grinning. "See, even my fortune agrees with me. _You will find happiness in a nest of Nargles."_

Draco huffed a laugh at the serendipity of the whole thing, before reading his own fortune aloud.

" _Have the courage to try again."_

_Highly astute for a fortune cookie_ , Draco thought in amusement. He spent the rest of the evening chatting with Rolf about how he should woo Luna, while he silently plotted how to go about winning Harry over.


	13. Chapter 13

"Hey, Teddy, ready to go? I have a big day planned!"

"Sure, Harry! Bye, Gram, I'll see you tomorrow!" Teddy waved at Andromeda as he and Harry left the house in Essex where the boy lived with his grandmother.

Harry held out his arm to Apparate, but Teddy paused.

"Are we going to the Science Museum first, or do we have to go somewhere else?"

Harry grinned. "Well, do you want to eat before we go, or get something after?"

"After, definitely. Gram made me eat before I left."

"Sounds good, then. Hold on tight." And, with that, Harry Apparated himself and his godson to the Apparition point nearest to the Science Museum in Kensington.

The museum was a favourite of theirs, and Harry tried to take Teddy several times a year. He loved watching the kid run from room to room, reading the plaques and playing with the controls in the activities. The museum changed up many of the exhibits each season, so there were always new things to see and do.

However, as they walked along the pavement towards their destination, Teddy's attention caught on a man ahead of them.

"Cousin Draco? Cousin Draco!"

Before Harry could say a word, Teddy had broken away and ran straight into Draco Malfoy, wrapping his arms around the man. Harry stood still in shock and alarm. _Fuck._

Straightening his shoulders and trying to appear aloof, Harry approached.

"Malfoy."

The blond smiled — truly smiled, with it showing in his eyes and everything — and Harry almost took a step back. "Draco," he corrected.

Harry opened his mouth and saw Teddy watching him closely, then sighed. "Draco."

That smile grew wider and even Teddy's matched it in return, the tips of his hair turning blue in pleasure. He was old enough to control his morphing abilities now, but sometimes emotion would cause a lapse and little bits would peek through.

"Teddy." Harry cleared his throat. " _Blue_ , mate."

"Shit," the kid swore, and Harry gave him a look. "Sorry, Harry. I mean, _poop_." He shot Harry a huge grin and shrugged apologetically.

Malfoy laughed. "Better not let your grandmother hear you say something like that. If she's like my mother, you'll regret it for days."

Teddy's eyes got big and he nodded. "Right," he said breathlessly.

"Listen, _Draco_ , Teddy and I were headed to an activity, so we'll let you be on your way. We wouldn't want to keep you."

"Nonsense. I'm done with my errand and was just going for a leisurely walk."

Teddy pulled back and stepped closer to Harry. Unfortunately, he didn't speak quietly when he asked, "Harry, can Draco come with us? Please? I bet he's never been to the Science Museum. Just think about all the Muggle stuff we can teach him."

Harry raised an eyebrow at his godson, and out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw Draco mouthing something at the boy. When Harry turned, however, the man was standing there placidly.

"Er, I don't know, Teddy. I'm sure he has better things to do than—"

"Actually, I don't. I'd love to join you if you'll have me."

Harry huffed out a little sigh and felt his shoulders sag in defeat. "Sure. Please join us, _Draco_. I'm sure we'll have a lovely time together."

Harry shot Draco an unamused look, but the Slytherin simply smiled as though he'd gotten his way. Which was silly, because how would he have known they were at the Science Museum in the first place?

Harry began to walk and let the others trail slightly behind. He'd just have to make the best of the day and hope they didn't kill one another in front of Teddy.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the three were sitting together at the restaurant Harry and Teddy generally stopped at after their museum visits. Harry sat quietly, listening to Draco speaking animatedly with Harry's godson. He simply marvelled at the turn the day had taken; he and Draco Malfoy had not only gotten on well together all afternoon, but they'd actually had _fun_.

"That was truly amazing!" Draco exclaimed to Teddy. "I've honestly never seen such a place. And all those exhibits? I mean, I know Muggles have extensively studied the human body and such, but I never realised they knew it in such detail! And those droids!"

Both Harry and Teddy laughed at that last bit.

"Robots, Cousin Draco. Droids are from Star Wars, and these ones can't think for themselves."

"Good distinction, Teddy," Harry lauded. "And Draco, keep your voice down; this is a Muggle restaurant."

Draco chuckled. "Sorry."

"Harry, can I go and play in the arcade?" Teddy asked, gesturing to the attached arcade room. It had been the main attraction for the kid when it came to choosing this restaurant. "I'm done eating."

"Sure, but keep where I can see you, okay?"

Teddy grinned and grabbed the money Harry handed over, then took off.

"Well, we'll be here at least another thirty minutes," Harry said with a laugh, then sat back while the two settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence.

Finally, he decided someone needed to address the Hippogriff in the room.

"Draco…"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why did you come here today?"

Draco feigned an innocent look that didn't fool Harry for a moment. "What do you mean? I was running errands and bumped into you, then Teddy invited me."

"Right. Pull the other one. I'm not mad, you know. Just curious."

Draco's smoky grey eyes met Harry's and they crinkled for a moment at the edges, as though he was smiling, though his lips remained still. "Teddy _may_ have mentioned yesterday that you were both going to the Science Museum in Kensington today. And I _may_ have found an errand I needed to run nearby so that I might run into you. Maybe. It's all hypothetical, really." Draco made an airy gesture as he ended his narration, making Harry feel the urge to laugh at his ridiculousness.

"Right, hypothetical. So, _hypothetically,_ why would you have done such a thing?"

Draco suddenly looked sad, but entirely earnest. "Perhaps…I wanted to be your friend. I knew it wasn't possible, but what can I say? Sometimes a guy just wants the impossible."

Harry sat in stunned silence, his mouth trying to respond, but no words making their way from Harry's brain. _He wants to be my friend._

Finally, the only word he could find to say emerged. "Why?"

Draco cocked his head, as though trying to figure Harry out. "Because I enjoyed the evening at the conference, getting to know you without the conflict. I really didn't know, Harry, that Haven was your shop. And I never meant anything by building Draconis where I did. None of it was personal."

Harry let out a huff. "Fuck that. It was personal to me." He looked away and Draco didn't say anything, so Harry gave a quiet sigh. "But I understand what you mean. For what it's worth, I'm sorry for the things I've said — at the conference, at the pub. I was hurt, and upset, and you didn't deserve it."

Draco nodded. "It happens. Salazar knows I've done the same to you." He sat back as if thinking, then continued in a casual voice, "But why were you upset at the pub?"

Harry watched Teddy for a moment as he moved to a new game, considering what to say. "I was supposed to meet someone there, and they hadn't shown up."

Draco raised an eyebrow in interest. "You _did_ say you were waiting on someone, didn't you? So, who was it? And did they finally come?"

Harry blushed. "Merlin, I can't believe I'm telling you this." He took a deep breath. "He's a pen pal. I've never _actually_ met him, and that night was supposed to be the first time." He could feel his face burning in embarrassment. "And no, he never came. Probably took one look at me and ran."

"Has he explained why?"

"No." Harry shrugged. "He didn't respond at all for a few days, but since then, it's been back to normal."

"So, in the three and a half weeks since he stood you up, you haven't asked why he didn't come? And you have no idea who he actually is?"

"No."

Draco grinned. "Then he could be anybody? He could be the man over there behind the bar. Or he could be that fit uni student from the coffee shop, or—"

"Oh, shut it, you," Harry said with a laugh.

"No, really. What do you really know about this man?"

Harry didn't know why it mattered, but he felt like he really needed Draco to understand. "I know he's wonderful and funny, and worries about whether or not he's a good person, and is always striving to be something more than he was before. I know he cares for his mother and for his friends, and that he _understands_ me."

Draco's grin had faded to a sad smile, and Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. "He can't possibly be as perfect as you make him out to be."

Harry chuckled quietly. "Yes, well, he's a wine drinker and hasn't ever had fish and chips, so I suppose he's not perfect. It's probably best he didn't come anyway. I'm not sure I could be with someone so posh."

Draco scoffed. "Anyone can be a wine drinker, Potter. You just have to have someone teach you how to appreciate it."

"Yes, well," Harry said with a smile, "you might be right. But," he added in a cheery tone, "it appears that won't be my lot."

"Why not? You should ask him to try meeting again. It sounds like you really like this man. Unless you're worried he's married—"

"He's not married!" Harry laughed.

"Have you asked him?"

"Well, no, but he said he just broke up with his boyfriend, so he's clearly not married."

"Hmm, yes. I suppose since you're so sure." Draco sat back primly and crossed his legs, tossing Harry a smirk.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Then it seems to me, Harry, that this is your chance. You're at the pinnacle of your friendship, and—"

"Wait, I'm at the _what_?" Harry sat for a moment, stunned at Draco's choice of words.

"Pinnacle, Potter. Pay attention. It means peak, top point."

"I know what it means," Harry said slowly, eyeing Draco closely.

Teddy ran back over to the table, interrupting the slow chugging train of thought. "Uncle Harry, I'm tired. Can we go now? You promised a Star Wars marathon tonight."

Draco raised an eyebrow, then raised two fingers and swiped them in front of him in an arc. "These are not the droids you're looking for."

Teddy cackled and Harry watched, bemused. _Draco Malfoy has a thing for Star Wars. Who would have thought?_

Harry stood and reached forward, offering his hand to Draco who gave it a quick shake. "It was nice bumping into you, Draco."

Draco smiled. "Perhaps we should try _bumping_ again sometime." He gave an eyebrow wag that Harry tried to ignore. "In the meantime, don't be a nervous Hufflepuff. Ask him to meet again."

Harry watched the man leave, wondering what had just happened. "Harry, are you ready?"

"Yeah, c'mon, Ted. Let's go."

* * *

_Dear FoodandWine69,_

_I've been extra busy lately. I know we haven't shared details in the past, but I need to thank you for your advice all those weeks ago on my business. I've taken it, and it's been more successful than I could have possibly imagined it'd be. It's not bringing in a ton of money yet, but personally, I'm loving every minute of it. I may have come up with the same solution on my own, but you gave me the push and the confidence in my decision, and you have my thanks._

_So, I was wondering, do you think we should try again to meet?_

_Wolfstar_

* * *

_Dearest Wolfstar,_

_I'm so happy for you that things are going well! I'm not one for jumping for joy, that would be undignified, but I am definitely going to have a celebratory drink in your honour._

_Of course, I want to meet with you. Unfortunately, at the moment, I'm in the middle of some urgent charm-work which cannot be delayed. I sincerely hope you can be patient with me._

_Yours,_

_FoodandWine69_

* * *

"Charm-work? What's that supposed to mean?" Draco walked next to Harry on the pavement, perusing the booths set up for the Art Festival. Harry had gone alone for the afternoon but had "bumped into" Draco again at a stand selling ceramics. From there, they'd continued to browse together in conversation.

"I don't know. Maybe he's in the middle of a big project?"

"Or maybe he's Flitwick! Harry, you've been writing Filius Flitwick! Well, I have to say, he'd be quite a catch."

Harry pushed Draco's shoulder and rolled his eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

Draco laughed. "Fine, if it's not Flitwick, then who? And did you ask about the married thing?"

"He's not married. He lives alone with his Kneazle."

"Oh, he's like _that_ , then."

Harry stopped. "Like what?"

"Single bloke with a cat. It's a cliché for a reason."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake."

"It's true. I should know; I have a cat, and I'm single."

Harry laughed. "Well, at least you agree he's not married now."

"And it's a little known fact, Flitwick is allergic to cats, so you're clear there."

"I wonder if he's allergic to McGonagall," Harry posed with a smirk.

They both burst out laughing, and Harry suddenly found himself staring at the other man, as though seeing him for the first time. _He really is beautiful when he laughs. Wow._

Draco seemed to notice Harry's stare and his smile grew softer. He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, hopefully he'll agree to meet soon. After he's done charming his cat."

* * *

"So Andromeda told me your Hogwarts prep classes this summer have been going really well. With holidays ending soon, have you decided what else you're going to do?"

It was a warm late August day, one Harry and Draco had chosen to spend sitting beside one another on a bench, watching people walking dogs, chatting, and sharing a snack. He reached over and took one of Draco's crackers and a piece of cheese, then considered the question.

"It went great, actually. I'm going to miss the students, but I suggested a couple of additional class sessions over the winter and spring hols that I think some might take me up on. And yeah, I've been planning another class that I think I'm about ready to launch."

"Oh?" Draco asked with obvious interest.

"Yeah, though maybe I'm not ready to share the details with the competition."

Draco laughed. "Understandable. Either way, I really am glad this has worked out so well for you. Teddy raves about your classes, and from what I've seen him do, I have to say that I'm very impressed."

Harry blushed. "Thanks." He sat quietly, then decided to go ahead and just say it. "I'm not going to thank you for crushing part of my business, Draco, because it sucks. But—"

"Harry, I—"

"Just let me finish. But I'll admit that I probably wouldn't have made the change I did without it, and, well, the change has been good. Really, really good. So, you know. I'm not mad anymore."

Draco smiled. "Good. So, how's the charming wine man?"

"Charming, as usual."

Draco paused and looked at his cracker. "Crackers and cheese seem to go together so well. I mean, they're both really lovely on their own, but put them together, and" — he gave a little chef's kiss — "magic."

Harry watched Draco's lips as he ate the snack, that pink tongue popping out to grab a little crumb left by a cracker. He cleared his throat. "You mean cheese and crackers."

"Cheese and crackers? What are you, a heathen? It's clearly crackers and cheese. The cracker holds the cheese."

"Or the cheese is the reason to eat the cracker in the first place."

"Are you serious?"

Harry smirked. "Maybe."

"So are you meeting yet?"

"He said soon." Harry looked at Draco. "Am I insane to be doing this?"

Draco just stared into Harry's eyes with quiet sincerity. "No. I think you're completely sane. Who wouldn't want what you seem to have with this man? I know I would."

Harry broke Draco's gaze and looked down at his cheese and crackers. "Yeah."


	14. Chapter 14

Draco stood outside the Three Broomsticks and tried not to look as nervous as he felt. He tried to be polite and nod to the groups of people heading into the pub, but Merlin, he was on edge. He had felt so confident just a few hours ago when he heard the popular Hogsmeade pub was holding a wine/beer sampling that he'd immediately sent off separate letters with Petris — one to procure two tickets, and one to Harry asking if he would accompany him. Now, he had no choice but to wait, much like Harry must have been waiting that night they were to have their first meeting.

After another few minutes, Draco cast _Tempus_ and saw to his dismay that the sampling was about to begin in a few minutes. _He's not coming. Of course, he isn't. Why would he?_ He tried to be stoic and stifle the chasm inside his chest. He'd just resolved to cut his losses and leave when a hand on his shoulder caused him to jump.

"Sorry," said Harry in amusement, "I didn't mean to startle you"

"You didn't. A Malfoy is never startled."

"Sure. You just jumped a mile in the air as your new hobby?"

"Well, it _is_ important to sample different activities to keep the mind sharp."

"Whatever you say, JarJar," Harry said with a smirk. "So, shall we?"

"We shall." Draco smiled and held the door open for Harry.

* * *

Two hours and a myriad of wine and beer tastings later, Draco was feeling slightly merry. A quick look over at Harry's flushed, smiling face hinted that he was much in the same way. The table in front of them was filled with glasses of varying types of wine and beer, and so far they had only tried about half of them. Draco had to admit, as much as he loved wine, the beer wasn't actually that bad. There was one he really liked the taste of — Brew Dog IPA or something — that was just so refreshing! Who knew a Malfoy could actually like a beer? Similarly, Harry had dutifully tried several different wines and found he had quite a taste for Australian Chardonnay from Giaconda Estate Vineyard. In actual fact, he had guzzled a few samples of the wine already. Who could blame him? If Draco ever veered away from red wine, the Giaconda would be the one to go for — peachy, lemony, refreshing. Much like the Brew Dog actually. Who knew?

"Uch" blurted Harry, screwing his face up in disgust. "Do not mix the wines together! It's disgusting!"

"Of course it's disgusting, you maniac!" gasped Draco, sporting an adequately scandalised expression. "Why on earth would you mix them?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Harry said, giving a stubborn shrug.

"And was it?"

"No, Mr Wine Connoisseur, it wasn't." Harry conceded, before turning his attention to the row of beer samples in front of Draco. "How're you liking the beers?"

"Honestly? Most of them are a bit harsh, but I love that fruity one you had me try."

"The Brew Dog? Yeah, that's one of my favourite's too."

Harry's green eyes met his own and, for a moment, Draco felt as though it had always been like this. Just him and Harry. No Hippogriffs, no war, no shops — just them, together, as friends with that little spark of the possibility of something more.

_Merlin_ , Draco hoped for something more.

* * *

One hour and several more samples later, Draco was really starting to appreciate the beers in front of him in a new way. However, he supposed that was mostly due to the fact that his taste buds had long since abandoned the whole expedition.

"Do you know what would go perfectly with this wine?" demanded Harry, brandishing a robust Sauvignon Blanc at him. "Pineapple and ham pizza!"

Draco looked at Harry with a mixture of revulsion and amusement.

"Harry, I don't know where you picked up your awful tastes, but I feel the need to educate you in two very specific things. One — wine is not a suitable pizza accompaniment, ever, in any circumstance! Two — pineapple, one hundred per cent, should never be anywhere near a pizza. That's just disgusting."

"Ha! You just haven't been properly introduced to the perfect combination of sweet and savoury that is a pineapple pizza."

"Yeah, and that's a good thing! _Honestly,_ no one should _ever_ be introduced to such an abomination!"

Harry grinned at him, his green eyes shining with amusement, and Draco felt his stomach flutter. _Salazar, the man had no business looking like that_.

"You know what we should do? Go to a pizza tasting! You can introduce me to what you think an appropriate pizza topping should be and I can get you to try different types of pineapple pizza."

"I don't think they do pizza tastings, and what do you mean different types of pineapple pizza?"

Draco grinned at the over the top scandalised look Harry was putting on. "Do you mean to tell me that Mr Impeccable Palate doesn't know the difference between bitter and sweet pineapples? I'm shocked!"

They both lapsed into laughter at the ridiculousness of the conversation, and Draco couldn't remember ever feeling happier.

* * *

By the time they left the sampling, it was already after ten at night and the air had chilled considerably. Draco tugged his jacket collar up around his neck and smiled somewhat sappily at Harry, much too tipsy to care about maintaining Malfoy appearances.

"Are you headed home?" asked Harry as they made their way rather unsteadily towards the main Apparition point.

"That's the plan," confirmed Draco, unable to stop himself from darting longing glances at Harry's lips. They were so red and plush, and Draco knew he would taste like ambrosia.

"I had a good time, Draco. I never knew that I could actually like wine."

"My pleasure," returned Draco with all the sincerity he could muster.

Harry had squeezed his shoulder affectionately and taken out his wand to Apparate home, when Draco suddenly blurted, "Wait! Are you free Saturday?"

"Yeah, why?" Harry looked intrigued and hopeful at the enquiry.

"Do you fancy meeting me for a coffee around 11am?"

"Sure, just owl me where, cause if you tell me now, I'm sure I'll forget or mix it up!"

Harry flashed his signature heart-stopping smile at Draco and quickly spun on the spot.

Draco felt that he had taken his heart and hope with him when he vanished in front of his eyes.

* * *

Draco paced back and forth in his living room nervously. This was it, the culmination of his plans, and if it didn't go well? _Then I guess I'm fucked,_ he thought blandly to himself. Behind him, he heard the Floo flare into action and he turned just in time to see Blaise and Pansy step out of the fire grate. They looked at each other pensively for a long moment, before Draco perched on the edge of the couch and gestured for them both to get comfortable.

"Right, old man. What's this about?"

"Well, I was wanting to talk to you both about something. Well, not talk, more like tell you. Yes, I want to tell you something. Because talking implies I need advice or something indefinite and I'm definitely definite."

"What in Circe's good name are you rambling on about?"

"I'm just trying to be clear about why you're here. Not to talk, but to listen, yes?"

"Well, that cleared things up," commented Blaise sarcastically.

"Draco, calm the fuck down and take a breath. You're making my nerves frazzle just watching you."

"Yeah, you are rather twitchy. Do you need a calming draught?"

"No, I'm fine. Just...I need to tell you both something, and I need you to keep an open mind and remember you both like me, ok?"

"Ah, you're finally going to fess up about Potter!"

"That's not fair, you've outed it, and he might not have been about to say anything about that!"

"Of course, he was; what else would he be rambling about"

"Hold on!" demanded Draco, his forehead scrunched in a comical expression of annoyance and confusion. "What do you mean, _fess up about Potter?_ What do you guys know?"

To Draco's consternation, Pansy and Blaise erupted into raucous laughter, which only worsened when they saw the baffled look on his face. After a few moments, Pansy had managed to get herself under control and scooted closer to Draco, clasping his hands in hers.

"Draco, my darling, of course we know about Potter. When Blaise told me about your letters—"

"Blaise! What the hell?"

"What? Was it supposed to be a secret? Besides, it was just Pans. She doesn't count."

"Oh, thanks a lot, you arse," scoffed Pansy, before turning her attention back to a very flustered looking Draco.

"As I was saying, when I learned about the letters, it all started clicking into place. Your daydreaming, drifting apart from your scrumptious boyfriend — I still think you're mad on that score, you know — and then your foul temper when you realised it was Potter."

"Not to mention," joined Blaise, "all the _accidental_ meetings you keep having with Potter."

"Yeah, like you just _happened_ to be at the Science Museum the exact time and day he was. Honestly, Draco, I thought you were meant to be more subtle than that."

"I don't know, Pans, love is seldom subtle," Blaise said in mock solemnity.

"So, you guys really don't mind?" Draco looked between his two friends in suspicion and hope. As he watched them both shake their heads in reply, a slow smile filled with possibilities spread across his face.

"I really thought that you guys would think I was mad, that you would try to make me choose between Potter and you both."

"Honestly Draco, don't be so dramatic." admonished Pansy with an amused scowl. "He might be a Gryffindor, but you've both been obsessed with each other for years. It makes sense."

"Yeah," agreed Blaise. "No one has that amount of animosity without there being some kind of underlying sexual tension, old man."

Draco sat listening to his friends bicker over who was first to notice sexual tension between him and Harry. _It's ok. They're ok with it_. His stomach did several cartwheels, and he began grinning maniacally. For once, things in his life were starting to fall into place.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"So you're finally going to meet? Do you think he'll show up this time?"

Harry wanted to glare at Hermione, but there was something about her immensely bulging belly and her look of actual concern that stopped him. She was sitting across from him in a conjured armchair with a matching ottoman propping her swollen ankles. She looked uncomfortable, and he didn't have it in him to give her a hard time.

"Merlin, I hope so. I don't know if I'll be able to do it again if he doesn't."

His best friend gave him a little smile. "No, I can't imagine you will. I'm sure he'll be there, don't worry about it."

He shot her a thankful look and returned to preparing the new lessons room for the next class. Setting plain gold rings out at each station for the students to practice applying their defence spells, he slowly moved around the room, lost in thought about his morning with Draco.

As if Hermione could read his mind, she asked, "So how's Draco? Andi said she saw you both having lunch together yesterday."

Harry shrugged. "We bumped into each other."

"You bump into each other at least three times a week, Harry," she said with a laugh. "Have you told him about your pen pal?"

He paused. "Huh? Yeah, of course. He's the one who encouraged me to try to meet him again, actually."

Hermione made a little noise, but when he looked over, she was oddly intent on her fingernails, which really didn't make sense, because Hermione hardly ever cared about such things.

"'Mione? Are you okay? Is it the baby?"

She let out a little cough and rolled her eyes. "No, Harry, it's not the baby. It's nothing. Have you settled on plans then, for the meet?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. He just told me he thought he was probably ready and asked if I was still interested. I sent back the letter this morning agreeing. Merlin, I hope I didn't sound too desperate."

"I'm sure you were fine." She lumberingly hefted herself up out of her chair and came over to Harry, wrapping her arms around him. He chuckled as he felt the baby kick him beneath his hug.

"Thanks, Hermione. For everything. What would I do without you?" He leaned down and planted a peck on her cheek.

She gave a little laugh as his beard tickled her face — she had the same reaction every time, which just made him want to do it all the more — then she looked up and caught his eyes. "No matter what happens, Harry, I hope he makes you happy."

He had the niggling feeling that she knew something more than she was letting on and that if he let himself think on it too long, he might know too — but he wasn't ready to think about it. He'd hear back from FoodandWine69 in the morning, and hopefully, by then he'd have set plans and could prepare properly. _Godric_ , he was nervous.

* * *

_Dear Wolfstar_

_West of Kensington Gardens, there's a little body of water called the Round Pond. As you walk towards it the path will split into a crossroads. There's a small bench there just off the path in the shade — I would hate to be the cause of sunburn! Please meet me there today at 4pm._

_It's just about 8mins walk from the Kensington Science Museum. I hope you find it ok._

_Ragu and I will be waiting._

_Forever yours_

_FoodandWine69_

* * *

"He wants to meet _today?_ " Draco asked on Saturday morning, handing Harry his latte as he sat down next to him at the coffee shop.

"Yeah," Harry said with a nod. "In Kensington Gardens."

Draco let out a laugh. "That's a clue."

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. "How is that a clue?"

"He's obsessed with Peter Pan. Maybe he's one of those man-babies that go around in diapers and refuses to grow up."

Harry barked out a laugh and wadded up a paper napkin to throw at the blond. "You're an idiot. It's a beautiful park."

"There are lots of beautiful parks in London, Harry. He picked that one for a reason."

"Maybe he just picked it because it was convenient and he was familiar with it. He seemed to know the layout and all."

"Because he's obsessed with it and spends his time at the Peter Pan statue imagining it's him."

Harry laughed. "Well, I'm sure it's just something I'll have to learn to deal with."

Draco smirked, then grew more thoughtful.

"What is it?" Harry asked, curious at Draco's change of mood.

"Well, even if he's a diapered man-baby, he's a brilliant one," Draco said in a considering tone.

"I don't disagree, but why do you say that?"

"Well, think about it. The timing here is everything. He's waited until you're primed — until you're _absolutely_ convinced that there's no other man that you could possibly love."

Harry thought about that. Could he love someone else? He looked at Draco's silvery-grey eyes staring into his and wavered. "Maybe," he conceded.

Draco's eyes held Harry's, and his voice grew deeper with some emotion Harry thought sounded like regret. "Sometimes I wonder."

Harry cocked his head, finding himself hanging on Draco's words.

"Well, if I hadn't been Draco Malfoy, and you hadn't been Harry Potter, and you and I had just met…"

Harry's chest tightened, but he couldn't move his eyes from Draco's gaze. "Yeah. I know."

Draco continued quietly, that emotion he thought might be regret turning to something else Harry was afraid to identify. "I would have asked you out, and said, _hey, how about some coffee, or some drinks, or some dinner, or some Quidditch_ … for as long as we both shall live."

Harry's breath hitched, but he managed to force out the one thing he could verbalise. "Draco—"

"— and you and I would never have been on opposing sides in anything. And the only thing we'd fight about is whether to have wine or beer, or what to call crackers and cheese."

Harry could feel his eyes burning and his throat clenching, but he was still unable to look away at the grey pools of emotion that were drilling into his very centre. "Well, who fights about that kind of shite anyway?"

Draco gave him a sad smile. "Well, some people do, but not us."

Harry returned the smile, humour bubbling through the myriad of other feelings he couldn't identify, but that were all beginning to be overtaken by the overwhelming sense of panic.

"If only…" Draco murmured.

Harry gave way to the panic and the need to flee so that he could clear his mind and try to understand what was happening. "I gotta go," he said, and there was almost a whine to his voice.

Draco held his eyes for a moment longer, then finally looked away. "Yes, well, you don't want to be late."

Harry stood up and walked to the exit, then looked back to see Draco sitting alone at the table, watching him with now unmistakable longing. Unable to do anything else, Harry turned and left.

* * *

Harry walked through his flat showered, dressed, and ready for the park, but still unsure of what had happened that morning with Draco. He stopped next to his desk and picked up his stack of letters from the previous year.

Flipping through them, he began to read through some of the details, desiring to confirm the silent hope that had unconsciously taken root over the past weeks. _If only…_

Details began to jump off the page about FoodandWine69. He mentioned a Tuscany Tignanello — a fancy wine that Draco's aunt, Andromeda, was familiar with — but he'd never drank beer. He'd broken up with his boyfriend; Draco had broken up with Rolf. He mentioned he'd be away the same weekend Harry was at the conference, where he'd bumped into someone from his past.

Harry kept flipping through the pages, his hope daring to grow with each flip of the page. Words stood out from their conversations that he'd heard Draco use, especially lately. Hell, Harry'd even sorted FoodandWine69 into Slytherin. And then there was the pub when Harry was waiting and—

Harry cut himself off, wanting so desperately for it to be true, but afraid to allow the possibility to fully form. He looked down and realised that he'd spent nearly two hours getting lost in his thoughts. It was time.

* * *

Appearing at the Kensington Gardens Apparition point, Harry looked at the park map and began to walk to the pond described in the letter. It was a beautiful, early September day, and Harry watched the children playing with their parents in the distance and the couples walking hand-in-hand as they passed him.

Hoping to calm his nerves, he took a deep breath and remembered Hermione's wish for him. " _No matter what happens, Harry, I hope he makes you happy."_ And he would. He loved this man he'd never met. He wasn't sure how that was even possible, but he did. But, he also had feelings for—

But no. _No matter what happens, I'll be happy._ He couldn't let himself hope for more. Not yet.

He approached the pond and looked around, desperate to lay his eyes on the man of his dreams. Spotting the crossroads — and giving a small chuckle at the irony of that — he proceeded closer, searching for the bench off the path in the shade.

His heart beat faster the closer he got, and his churning stomach seemed to want to turn itself inside out. _Almost there. Breathe Harry_ , he reminded himself. _Breathe._

He reached the crossroads and noticed a slightly worn walking path off to the right of the pavement that led to a large maple tree. Unable to see a bench just yet, he took several steps further and then stopped. _Fuck. It's him,_ was all Harry could think.

He felt a sob making its way up to his throat, and he nearly choked in his effort to keep it down. Standing next to the bench, leaning against the tree with a large spotted cat at his feet was Draco Malfoy. They both watched Harry closely, Draco clearly waiting for a reaction. Harry took a few steps closer, and in Draco's grey eyes was reflected all of the hope and uncertainty that Harry knew must be in his.

Harry felt his lips curl at the edges, the joy overwhelming everything else.

Draco shrugged as Harry drew close. "Hi, Wolfstar. Let me introduce you to Ragu."

Harry felt a tear pool in the side of his eye, and Draco reached up to wipe it away. Harry finally found his voice. "Merlin, I wanted it to be you. I was afraid to hope, but I did anyway—"

Harry had no idea what he was going to say next, but it didn't matter because Draco interrupted by leaning forward, hesitating a moment over Harry's lips, giving him the chance to pull away. When he didn't, he let out a little breath of relief that Harry felt brush his face and then placed his lips gently on Harry's.

Letting out a little sigh of relief, because finally, _finally,_ he was kissing his pen pal; he was kissing Draco; he was kissing the man he _loved_. He reached up and grabbed onto Draco's shoulder, making the man let out a little moan and reach up to bury his hands in Harry's hair.

The kiss deepened, and Draco's taste was pleasant and familiar and lovely. Between the kiss and his speeding heart, Harry felt short of breath and regretfully pulled back with a gasp. Draco didn't let go, however, and simply laid his forehead against Harry's own.

Draco simply stared, grey eyes never leaving green, and the look of happiness on the blond's face was all Harry needed. But then Draco spoke. "I love you."

And what could Harry do but grin and reply with the only proper response he could think of? "I know."

Draco threw back his head and laughed, then reached for Harry's hand. "Come on, Princess."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. If anything, you're Leia."

Draco raised an eyebrow and gave a little smirk. "I'll admit I'd look better in that costume."

Harry's eyes darkened in anticipation. "I bet you do. All right. Let's take Ragu home, then go get some dinner and talk."

"Sounds perfect." Draco paused and looked at Harry. "I meant everything I said today. If you need time to get used to the idea of this — of me — I'll understand, but I meant it all."

Harry squeezed Draco's hand. "I think I've been used to it for a while, I just— just needed time for my brain to catch up to my heart." He stopped, then thought of something and let out another laugh. "Charm work! Oh, Merlin. You idiot."

Draco began to walk, pulling Harry with him as Ragu trailed behind. "It worked! I charmed _you_ , you have to admit."

"So what's for dinner?"

"Certainly not pineapple pizza."

"Coward."

"Heathen."

Harry sighed in contentment and remembered Draco's words from that morning. " _For as long as we both shall live."_ He wanted to laugh at his assumption months before of it being the pinnacle of his life. A smile crossed his face as he realised it was just the beginning.

* * *

**_Finis_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading our little story. We hope you enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed writing it. Reviews are always appreciated. 
> 
> More of our stories can be found on our individual user profiles: Janie-Ohio and DrarryMadHatter. The direct links to those accounts can be found in the story details at the top of the screen. Thanks for reading!


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